Tag, You're It
by beast916
Summary: They've been playing games ever since they've known each other, but what happens when Freddie inadvertently ups the ante?  Will Sam bring the pain...or something he doesn't expect.  "iOMG" did not occur.  Rated "M" for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1: The Games Begin

Chapter 1: The Games Begin

**Disclaimer: If I owned **_**iCarly**_**, Dan wouldn't be giving me the stink-eye for what I'm writing about.**

_**Note: In recent stories I've written about people dying or being separated for years at a time, so I thought I would write something a little more fun and light-hearted. And apparently light-hearted to me means a little perverted. So heed the rating. I don't see things getting too graphic...but they'll be graphic enough. While the entire story is rated "M", this chapter is probably "T", so maybe you'll give it a chance to see if you want to continue reading.**_

It was Freddie's fault. He knew that. Sure, as was usual, Sam had started it all. Sam started everything. When they were younger, that would have been the end of it. Sam would start something, and Freddie would protest. And Sam would win again. But as they got older, Freddie became bolder. It's true that Sam won more often than not, but Freddie wasn't in it for the victory (he realized he would be stupid to be in it for that against Sam), but for the game itself.

Sam had started it again this time, but it was Freddie who raised the stakes.

He thought about this as he sat in homeroom. He was glad it was their senior year, and that for the most part he knew more than the teachers. Because he hardly concentrated in class anymore. Sam occupied his mind way too much. In that way she was winning again.

He thought about when it first began. It was roughly four weeks previous. They had just finished another episode of _iCarly_. Carly had gone downstairs to make a batch of her special lemonade, and Freddie was trying to think of another reason to refuse a glass that didn't specifically tell her it was the most wretched thing he had ever tasted and that he could feel his future grandchildren closing their throats in protest of such a monstrosity being subjected upon their ancestor.

Sam was in the studio with him. She sat in the bean bag, pretending to watch something on TV. He knew she was pretending and waited for her to do whatever she was planning to do. Hopefully, whatever game she started would include a minimum of pain for Freddie.

They never talked about the games. Freddie knew if they did they might stop. They could never mention them. Because mentioning the games meant they might have to acknowledge other aspects of their relationship, such as the fact that maybe they really were friends, maybe more than friends. In some ways, Freddie felt the he and Sam were closer than either of them was with Carly. They had a way of communicating without having to talk, which is how the first game began.

That first game actually had to do with Carly. Carly had yelled at them for another fight they had. And both of them felt bad about it, but while they were sitting there, looking at each other, they both smiled. And without a word they agreed on the game and on the rules.

The winner was the first person who could make Carly yell at them. They weren't allowed to make Carly cry-that was an automatic loss. But if they were able to get her angry enough for her to yell, then whoever was the straw that broke the camel's back got the point. They had been playing that game for three years. Sam was ahead, but it was a surprisingly close score: after three years, only eight points separated them. Freddie knew it was because Carly expected him to be the more mature one and not get lured into a fight.

Sam got off her bean bag and came to stand next to him. He studiously ignored her, while trying to keep his excitement in check. He would never admit it to her, but the games were some of his favorite things. The times he spent with Sam were his favorite things. Well, except when she hit him. Those sucked. But she had been hitting him less, and when she did, the pain was inconsequential.

He continued to work on his computer. He could feel her smirking, and he knew she would stay there until he acknowledged her. That was part of the game, too. He sighed and turned to her.

She reached out and pushed his bicep gently with her index finger. "Tag, you're it."

He looked at her. Had she lost it? Was this what they had come to? And he started another of their silent conversations.

_Tag? Really?_

_You can admit defeat if you think you can't handle it, nub._ He didn't know how he knew she was calling him a nub when they weren't talking, but he did.

_I can handle it, Puckett. I just think you're losing your touch._

_We'll see._

_Fine, what are the rules?_

_First rule, Benson, tags can only be applied in locations in which you and I are the only ones around. If a tag is witnessed, it doesn't count._

_Okay, what about tag-backs?_

_Must be at least an hour between tag-backs._

_What about a winner?_

_I guess we'll just have to see._

_Sam, this game could last forever!_

_You can always admit defeat, wuss._

He looked at her. No way was he admitting defeat. He nodded. She smirked, and left the room. He knew she expected for him to wait for the hour to be up and then try to get her, so she was going to be around Carly to prevent that. Sam had forgotten one important thing about Freddie, though, and that was that he had learned from the master: Sam Puckett. He would not do it right away. After all, the game could last forever. There was no need to rush it.

Any time she saw him in the next few days she jumped. That gave him a rush, that he could have that effect on her. But he also knew Sam Puckett well enough to know that if he didn't do something soon, he was going to have that jumpiness turn to anger, which in would turn into pain for Freddie. He couldn't have that.

That was why on the fourth day after she tagged him, he did a very un-Freddie thing. He left his apartment early, but instead of going to school he took a bus to Sam's street. He waited outside her house for thirty minutes, which he actually felt was a fairly short time, since Sam was never known for her punctuality.

But she was still late for school. Which was good for Freddie, because there was nobody on the street. He came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder (and then removed it quickly; he had seen what she'd done to other guys who surprised her).

"Tag, you're it."

"Son of a bitch," she yelled, before turning around. He pretended not to see the tiny smile that flittered across her lips. "Took you long enough, nub."

"Would you like an escort on your way to school, milady?" he asked.

"What a nub." She started walking. "Here, you're carrying my books."

She tried to drag the walk out, so that the hour would pass before they got to school, but he was onto that, and they arrived forty-five minutes after he tagged her.

It was better when he had been waiting to tag her, because the anticipation of her tagging him made him jumpy whenever he realized other people weren't around. He was foolish enough to think she wouldn't come into the audiovisual room, because of the general nerdiness of the room, but she did. He never noticed her until she spun him around and pinched both his cheeks.

"Tag, you're it, nub." She looked around. "Great, now I have to shower to get the dweeb cooties that probably have infected me." And she left.

They went about that for a week, and perhaps nothing would have changed if it hadn't been for _Dance Master USA_. Spencer had bought the game in another attempt to get into shape, but he had quickly abandoned it. Carly had brought it up to the studio and they had played it occasionally, but it didn't really interest Freddie. He didn't need to have Sam videotaping him doing it and embarrassing him by playing it on _iCarly_.

That day he and his mother were supposed to go to mother/son pottery class. He had been slowly weening her off their activities together, but he knew just making her go cold turkey would be hard. He needed to stop her before he went to college, though. He didn't have to do anything that day, because when they were in the car she got a call that another of the nurses had gotten sick and they needed a replacement quickly.

"Sorry, Freddie," she said.

"It's okay, Mom. We'll get it next time," he said, because although he hated pottery, he didn't want to hurt her feelings.

Spencer and Carly were visiting their grandfather that evening, so Freddie decided that he would update the software in the studio and then maybe have a _Galaxy Wars _marathon.

He heard the music as he was going up the stairs. Sam was there, and she though he was at the pottery class. It was a perfect time to strike, although he would have to abandon his movie-watching. He couldn't be in his apartment alone after an hour; Sam would get him right away.

He stopped outside the studio and gawked at what he saw. Sam was playing _Dance Master USA_, and she was doing it at the Master level. That might not have been too bad, but apparently this dance involved a lot of jumping around, and Sam was wearing just denim shorts and a tank top. He saw the sweat glisten on her legs, and the way the muscles in her thighs jumped. Then he looked up and saw the way her breasts moved, and Freddie became hypnotized.

It wasn't like he hadn't noticed them before. He had seen the paper in the boy's locker room ranking the top boobs in school and saw that Sam was listed as number three, and he had been unable to stop himself from thinking they should be number one. It was often a struggle of Herculean magnitude to separate his thoughts of this beautiful girl with amazing breasts from the one who could eat an entire chicken in a minute (less without bones) and who could easily incapacitate any person she encountered.

He tried not to think about Sam's breasts. He really did. Not only did he feel it was wrong to think about a friend like that, he was sure if she found out that he did, she would stick his own foot up his ass. And like some other girls, he had heard Sam say "my eyes are up here" to a boy. Unlike the other girls, though, she usually said that after she had already kneed the guy in the balls. So, yes, better not to think about Sam's breasts. And if Freddie happened to dream about them every once in a while, well, there was nothing she could do about that. He hoped.

He might have stood there until she noticed him and came over and kneed him in the balls anyway. But the song stopped, and that was enough to snap him out of his paralysis. The next song began playing, and Freddie slowly began to move toward her.

She must have caught his reflection in the monitor, because she spun around to look him directly in the face. He was less than a foot away from her. He saw her flick her eyes to each side, seeing if there was any way she could escape. She saw that she wouldn't be able to before he touched her. Her shoulders slumped.

"Aw, crap." She waited for him to tag her.

Later, he would blame it on some residue of the hypnotic effect her bouncing boobs had on him. Maybe it was the way she was breathing heavily, and he could see her breasts move up and down as she did so. Maybe he just wanted to do it.

He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Tag, you're it." Sam's face shot up, and there was a shocked expression on her face. Freddie left the studio quietly, with no hurry. He didn't begin running until he was down the stairs.

He went to see a movie that night. It was a movie his mother would never have allowed him to watch, but he figured he was going to die soon, so he might as well have some enjoyment beforehand.

It wasn't like he hadn't kissed her before. They had once, so that each could have their first kiss. But she had agreed to that. She had actually been the first one to voice the idea. This was different. He had kissed her without her okay. It wouldn't matter that it was on her cheek. Sam Puckett was going to kill Freddie Benson. Freddie didn't think that was exaggeration or hyperbole. She might not mean to kill him, but she would be unable to stop herself.

Part of him wanted to get it over with, to walk bravely to his certain doom, maybe shoot off with a witty line before he was taken down. But more than that, Freddie wanted to put off the pain as long as he could.

That was why, instead of going through the lobby like he normally would, he climbed the eight floors up the fire escape. If his mother had known, she would have put him in a mental hospital immediately. Because climbing up fire escapes was something Freddie Benson didn't do.

_Yeah, well, kissing Sam Puckett without her permission isn't something Freddie Benson does, either_, he thought. He knew what that meant. If he was able to do something so unlike himself as kiss Sam, then maybe she would realize he might do something else unlike himself. Maybe she was waiting on the fire escape, the fire escape they shared their first kiss, and she would push him off when he got there. He looked up and couldn't see anybody, but who knew?

There was nobody on the fire escape. He looked through the window and didn't see her. _Now or never_, he thought, and he ran for his door, which was generally a useless precaution, because it took him nearly a minute to get through all the locks his mother had installed.

He shut and locked the door. He began to breathe easily. _She could already be in here_, his mind told him, the same mind that had allowed him to stare at Sam's breasts and who had thought there was no issue with kissing Sam. _Thanks, brain_, he thought.

He checked around. If she was there, he could do nothing. He wouldn't hit Sam, and even if he did, he knew she could hit harder. Sam was the toughest person he knew.

She wasn't there.

He looked down at his hands, which were grimy with dirt from climbing up the fire escape. He could imagine his mother's reaction to the sight. He grabbed some paper towels and cleaned the door knob of the front door and any other item he might have touched. There was probably dirt on the other side of the door, but he could blame that on Sam if his mother said anything. If he lived long enough.

He double-checked the locks on the door. He knew Sam couldn't get through them. She had tried before. Satisfied, he went to his bedroom. He grabbed a towel and a pair of _Galaxy War _boxers. He went into the bathroom and stripped down. He would have to start a load of laundry, so his mother didn't see the dirt on his clothes. He got in the shower and washed the grime away. He started to relax. Maybe if he didn't see Sam until the next day, she might only cripple him, not kill him.

He got out of the shower and dried off. He stood in front of the mirror and brushed his teeth. He pulled his boxer shorts up, and then his mind, fickle as ever, said, _what about the window?_

The window. He liked to sleep with it open. Sam knew that. He had to lock the window. He opened the bathroom door, and even before he had finished turning the knob, his brain was whimpering, _I don't know if this is a good idea, Freddie._

And she was right there, blocking his exit. The only place he had to go was back in the bathroom. She stared at him with an unreadable expression, and for a moment he did think about going back, of trying to shut the door and locking her out. But she could get in, he knew. What would be the point? Better to face her anger head-on than be a wuss. He pulled himself up a little straighter and looked her in the eyes.

"Sam," he said. To him, it sounded like there was no hesitancy in his voice, no fear despite the fact it felt like ice was running through his veins.

For a moment, he didn't realize her lips were against his. He looked down at her. Her eyes were closed, and his brain, the idiot, said, _she's kissing you!_ Sam was kissing him. It was probably just a trick to set him up, but at the moment he didn't care. He had been prepared for pain, so if it was to come, he might as well enjoy the moments before. He closed his eyes.

He felt her tongue push between his lips, felt it run over his teeth, and he met it with his own tongue. She tasted like strawberries. The kiss lasted maybe ten or eleven seconds before she pulled back. He opened his eyes and looked at her. Her cheeks were red. He tensed his body, waiting for the hurt, but she backed away.

"Tag, you're it," she said, her voice light. She moved closer to the window. "You changed the game, Freddie." Again, he could not read the expression on her face. She put one leg over the window sill and looked back at him. Then, a smirk appeared. "Nice boxers, nub."

And she was gone.

Not a moment too soon for Freddie. If she had stayed a second longer, she would have noticed a new change around Freddie's boxers, and then she really might have killed him.

_You changed the game, Freddie_.

What did it mean? What did the kiss mean? He looked at the window, just to see if maybe she was still around. Seeing she wasn't, he slapped his own face as hard as he could.

"Ow." Okay, he wasn't dreaming.

"What did I do?"

**A/N: Okay, if the "M" rating didn't warn you, and if my note at the beginning didn't warn you, please let thrice pay for all: this is going to be somewhat dirtier than my normal fanfic. Sam and Freddie aren't going to be humping their brains out in the next chapter, but I can't promise there won't be some brain-reducing humping later in the story. **

**I hope readers of my other stories will stick with me, despite the upgrade in rating. Sam and Freddie are still going to be Sam and Freddie, as much as I can keep them that way, while still acting like teenagers who happen to find each other insanely hot.**

**And for those who refuse to read because of the rating (and those of you who should not be reading-shield your eyes, youngsters!), I promise that in the next story Sam and Freddie will be arguing Jungian versus Hobbesian philosophies. Okay, probably not, but it won't be as dirty.**

**Please review (assume that every review that has "you have a dirty mind" will be replied with "yeah, I'm a guy", so we don't have to go through all that).**


	2. Chapter 2: Raising the Stakes

Chapter 2: Raising the Stakes

**Disclaimer: "No, if you own **_**iCarly**_**, you have to apply double entendres that most of the youth won't get. Now, what you're doing, well, those are just...well, entendres, no double about them, so I guess you don't own **_**iCarly**_**."**

"_Sam, what are you doing here?"_

_He saw her crawling through the window. It had been raining; she shouldn't have been outside. She was going to get sick. She turned to face him, and he could see that she was again wearing a tank top, like she had been when he kissed her on the cheek. Except this one was white, and he could see she wasn't wearing a bra. He could see her areolas, and the strain of her hardened nipples pushing against the cloth She looked at him. "I'm just playing the game, Freddie."_

"_Sam, you're...wet. You're gonna get sick."_

_She looked down at herself. She nodded, and before he could say anything she had pulled her shirt over her head. Her breasts bounced freely. She moved closer to him._

"_What are you doing, Sam?"_

"_Isn't this what you want, Freddie?" She got on the bed and straddled his hips and leaned over, so that her breasts were inches from his face. "Isn't this what you dream of?"_

_He looked at her. "That's it. I'm dreaming. I've had this dream before."_

"_Have you?" she asked and leaned closer, her breasts resting on his chest, her lips moving closer to him._

"Freddie, time to get up."

He moved the blankets over his groin with a practiced precision, although his eyes had not even opened. "I'm up, Mom."

"It doesn't look like it, sweetie," his mother said. _That's because the sheet's hiding _it_, _he thought_. _She was very close. That more than anything helped with the situation under the blanket. All he had to think about what she might make him endure, with psychiatrists, ointments, the TALK, and his hardness disappeared.

"Sorry, Mom. I'm up." He threw his legs on the side of the bed and gave her a reassuring smile. He still had the blanket over him, but he knew that he should be safe now.

He was tired of the dreams. He had been having them for years, ever since he first noticed Sam as a girl, as a sexual being. That had been after the first kiss. He realized that she didn't see him quite the same way, and the dreams had lessened for a time, if not fully gone away. But over the last year or so, the dreams had increased. Part of that was just because he found her sexually attractive; he had dreams about other girls at school, although all of them combined didn't match the frequency of his Sam dreams. He thought about the dreams he had about Sam. Many of them were more sexual than the one she had been awakened by his mother from. He compared them to the dreams he used to have about Carly. He never had sex dreams about Carly. A lot of the dreams he had with Carly were about the two of them on some mountaintop, with breezes blowing through both their hairs. Sometimes they rode a horse. Freddie hated horses. He loved Carly. Truly, he did. But he didn't desire her. He wished he did, because the thought of being with Carly was comfortable. It was easy. The thought of being with Sam was scary as hell. And arousing.

_Stop it_, he told himself. He didn't want to have to readjust the blankets. "Mom, can you go? I'm gonna take a shower."

"Sure, Freddie."

He didn't know if cold showers really helped, but this one certainly took his mind off Sam for a few moments, as he rushed through it. He thought about the other reason he dreamed about Sam. Through some type of magic or alchemy, he had been falling in love with her, probably because all the blood rushing to his groin had caused a short in his brain. How could he love the girl who hit him and teased him? Sure, she was beautiful and funny and sometimes surprisingly sweet and whenever he was with her he was excited about the possibility of what they might do.

Oh, yeah, that was why.

He would have to see Sam at school, and all memory of the dream left him. Thoughts of other dreams came up instead, ones in which she had him tied up and was cutting his flesh with a rusty nail. Those were the types of dreams he had the first year they were doing _iCarly_.

He no longer expected Sam to kill him. After last night, he was sure the punishment would be so much worse. Did she know how he felt about her somehow? Was she using those feelings to torture him? That didn't seem like something Sam would do. She had a cruel streak, he knew, but he had also seen her back off when she could have hurt him, such as when his mother and, ew, Lewbert looked like they might hook up. And if Sam knew that Freddie liked her as more than a friend and that he had those types of dreams about her, wouldn't that be more likely to cause her to kick his ass than to play into his fantasy as part of some elaborate scheme?

But if she was doing this to torture him, she was doing a great job.

He stood at his locker in the hallway. If he wanted, he could probably put off seeing Sam for most of the day. But Freddie Benson hated anticipation. Better to just rip the band-aid off in one swoop than drag it out. He looked down the hall and saw Sam and Carly walking together. Sam didn't appear to pay any particular attention to him, or to anything else around her.

"Hey, Freddie," Carly said. Sam glanced at him and then looked away.

"Hey, Carly, how was your visit with your grandfather?" he asked. He only gave Sam a slight glance. Another silent agreement he had with Sam was that they were careful about what they shared with Carly or what they let her witness. She tended to go overboard with situations.

"Pretty boring until Spencer accidentally set his petunias on fire," she said. Neither Sam or Freddie had much of a reaction to that. Spencer was always setting something on fire.

"I'm going to class," Sam said, and walked away. Carly and Freddie watched her walk down the hall. The first bell hadn't even rung yet. Sam was never on time for a class if she could help it. _Whatever she has planned for me is going to be bad,_ Freddie thought.

"Do you know what's up with Sam? She's been quiet all morning," Carly said. Freddie shrugged.

"You think she would share with me that anything was happening?" Freddie asked.

"I guess not," Carly said. He shook his head as she continued to look down the hall. He loved Carly, but sometimes she just didn't see what was happening around her. "Oh, did I tell you Matt's taking me out Saturday?"

"No," Freddie said shortly. Carly frowned at him. She wondered if he still had feelings for her. Ever since they had gotten together and then broke up after he had saved her life, he hadn't asked her out again. He actually hadn't said anything about liking her in that way, and before he couldn't go a day without saying something. She thought he had gotten over her, which relieved her. And saddened her a little-it was nice to have somebody who admired you, no matter what. But it was better for Freddie if he had gotten over her.

Freddie wasn't bothered by Carly dating. He just didn't want to hear about it. Carly treated him like he was another one of her girlfriends, like she could just gush about this boy or that boy. He was okay with not being the boy for her, but he didn't need his friends, who were girls, to forget that he was actually a boy.

"I think I'm gonna go to class, too," Freddie said and walked away.

"Well, welcome back, Carly," Carly muttered to herself.

Freddie knew he had been rude to Carly. He would apologize later. If Sam weren't occupying his thoughts so much, it wouldn't have happened. He thought Sam might drag out the torture forever. He realized, despite every atom in his body protesting the thought, he would have to confront her directly.

He saw he had the chance after lunch. She wasn't in study hall. He slipped out of the class himself and went to find her. That was another thing that surprised him: he knew where she would be. Carly didn't. He had actually gone there with her a few times, although she had insisted he could only be there if he didn't talk. Sometimes she meant it; other times, she would be the one to start a conversation.

He went on the roof and saw her standing near the edge, looking onto the parking lot. He came behind her, making no effort to be quiet. She didn't turn around. He reached out and pressed on her arm with his finger.

"Tag, you're it," he whispered.

She didn't turn around. "Doesn't count, Freddie. You changed the game."

"What are you saying, Sam?"

She did turn around, then. "I'm saying the game's different now, Freddie." She walked by him. She stopped. "You can always quit. You must be used to losing by now." She left without looking back.

She wasn't going to kill him. That was his first thought. That didn't really explain why he felt more scared than when he thought his life was forfeit.

That was the first time in his life that Freddie Benson cut two classes in one day. He stayed on the roof to think. _You changed the game_. Okay, so he had. He had kissed her on the cheek instead of tagging her, and she had countered by giving him what he considered the best kiss he had ever had in his admittedly limited experience. So what did that make his next step? Something beyond her kiss? This was stepping into dangerous territory, even for Sam Puckett.

This was stepping into unknown territory for Sam Puckett. He knew her as well as anybody who wasn't Carly, and in some ways better than Carly. He didn't necessarily know every boy she had dated or crushed on. Unlike Carly, she didn't overshare. If you wanted information from Sam, you had to work for it. But he knew that her kissing experience was maybe less than his. If not, it wasn't much more. He had gotten that much from accidentally overhearing a conversation between her and Carly. Other boys hit on her; he had seen that in person. Almost without fail, she turned them down. If she was in a good mood, she wouldn't humiliate them or hit them. Sam wasn't easy. And Sam didn't play hard to get. It seemed when it came to love, romance, sex, whatever name you wanted to give it, Sam didn't play at all.

So why was she doing this with Freddie? It could be that she liked him, but he dismissed that almost out of hand. Sure, they were more friends than either of them pretended, but it was something else entirely for her to like him like that.

_You like her like that_. There was that. Whatever may be, he had choices to make: he could concede defeat, or he could take the next step.

Conceding defeat would be easy. He had done it before, but although the thought of what might happen if he didn't concede frightened him, he knew right away that he wouldn't quit. At least not yet.

So again Freddie was going to do something completely insane, and unlike the kiss on the cheek that occurred before he really had time to form a rational thought telling him to not do it, he knew exactly what he was going to do.

The opportunity presented itself that night. He, Carly, and Sam were in the studio. They had gone over some ideas for their next broadcast, but except for Carly frantically speaking, trying to fill the silence, they spoke of little. When Matt called Carly on her PearPhone, she practically ran from the room to talk to him, glad to be away from the others until whatever weirdness there was around them disappeared.

"Going home," Sam said.

Freddie stood up and followed her to the door. "I'll give you one chance, Sam."

She stopped. "One chance to what, Fredward?" she asked without turning around.

"Quit."

He heard her chuckle. "What makes you think I would ever quit, Freddie. I told you before and I tell you again: Mama plays to win."

"Okay," he said, disbelieving how in control of himself he felt at the moment considering what he planned to do. "You just want to remember that you had the opportunity to quit."

"What-" she began. She started to turn around, and that wouldn't do. He made his move, recalling the last time Sam had really hit him, over six months before. The imprint of her slap had been on his face for two days. If his mother hadn't been at an aggressive parenting seminar that weekend, he might never have seen Sam and Carly again, for his mother surely would have moved him to a different school district, to a different state, maybe a different country.

"_What the hell, Sam?" He held his cheek. _

"_Don't you ever do that again, nub. I mean it." Sam was standing over him, anger making dark marks on her cheeks. The flush spread to her neck and chest._

"_I was just trying to help, Sam. Jeez!" He started to get up, and she pushed him down. He was angry now, too. He would never hit her, but he wasn't going to let her push him when he was just being nice. There was no telling what might have happened if Carly hadn't dragged Sam away, into Carly's bedroom._

_Freddie normally wasn't the eavesdropping type. Eavesdropping was rude, and his mother had taught him "those who are rude have a conscience crude". But he was more angry at Sam than he could remember being since the whole first-kiss incident. And he remembered that happened because she had eavesdropped on him. Turn-about was fair play, he decided. He snuck up to the room._

"_Why would you do that, Sam? I thought Freddie was your friend."_

"_That nub was never my friend."_

"_Oh, cut that out, Sam. That's boring. Nobody believes that anymore. Everybody knows you are friends. Why did you hit him? He told you there was some barbecue sauce on your neck. I can still see it. He was just trying to clean it up." _

"_Nobody can touch my neck!" Sam said._

"_Why, Sam?" No answer. "Sam, are you blushing?"_

_Sam's answer was quieter. "You remember that conversation we had about two weeks ago, when you made me watch those stupid chick movies with you and we talked about, you know, stuff."_

"_Sam, what are you-wait a minute. Are you saying that saying your neck is one of your erogenous zones? When Freddie touched you, did you-"_

"_No, Carly, holy cow. What do you think I am, a light switch? But I don't want anybody, especially Freddie Benson, knowing about it, okay? I can't help it. I don't need him to think it was _him_ that did it. It could have been anybody."_

"_Okay, Sam, I'm sorry. You're still going to have to apologize to Freddie, though. You hit him pretty hard." Freddie didn't hear Sam's reply, because he knew the sound of an argument ending, so he hustled downstairs. He pretended to watch the show they had been watching before everything had happened._

_Five minutes later, Sam came down without Carly. "Freddie?"_

"_Hmm," he said. This television show was interesting. Boy, nothing would be more interesting than this television show. It's so interesting that there would have been no reason for a boy to leave it alone and go upstairs for any reason._

"_I'm sorry." He turned to her and immediately saw that she meant it._

"_Okay," he said. Then, pushing his luck, "why'd you do it, Sam?" He looked at her and saw that, unlike the apology, whatever she was going to say would be a lie._

"_You know, female issues. You really want to talk about it?"_

"_No, thank you," he said, quickly. _

That was what he remembered, and then he leaned over, before she could turn around and ran his tongue along the length of her exposed neck. He felt her shiver against him.

"What-"

He silenced her with quick, tiny kisses against her neck. She fell back against him, and he wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her up. He leaned her neck to the side and ran his lips up and down her throat. She moaned, and he felt triumph and desire rush through him.

"St...st...stop, Freddie," she moaned. He stilled his lips, but still had them pressed against her flesh.

"Do you quit?" he asked. She said nothing. He took the arm not holding her by the waist and put it against her neck, feeling her heat against his palm and lightly stroked the side of her throat with his thumb, like he had the day she had slapped him. He let his lips continue their mission, only reminding himself not to suck, not to leave marks. He might win the game of tag, but he didn't want to lose vital parts if she saw he had marked her.

She threw her head back. "Oh, god, Freddie," she whispered. Her hand went to his head and pulled his hair. He felt an almost electric shock in his body. He had to stop. If he didn't stop, this would turn from a game of tag to something he might not be able to stop himself in.

_Are we still playing tag?_

He moved away from her, noting the shakiness of her body. He stepped away and felt his own nerves try to claim him.

"Tag, you're it," he said, and then he left the studio. Downstairs he saw Carly in the kitchen, turned away from him, talking on the phone. He hurried out before she could see him.

Carly came back up to the studio five minutes later. Sam was sitting on one of the bean bags, with a distant look in her eyes.

"Sam, where's Freddie?"

"Nub went home."

"Sam, did you do something to him?" Sam smirked at that. She do something to him. Not this time. "What is going on with you two?"

"Nothing. Just playing a game." She reached up and felt the heat of her throat. "Just playing a game."

**A/N: I hope everybody is enjoying the story, despite the change from my normal type of story (do I have a normal type of story?). Yes, as somebody mentioned in a review, you can probably guess the direction the story is heading in, but there might be a surprise or two along the way, and sometimes the story isn't about the destination, but the journey.**

**Thanks for reviews from: Purple550, MattFujiwara, Darsnider, mamaluvsangst, Geekquality, iLovePurpleRomance, afanoffanfic, WhiteKnightRo, maxifae, and Tbayleyt.**

**MattFujiwara: I definitely know that females have dirty minds, too. I just wanted to make sure everybody knew what they were getting into with my story, because I hadn't written a "M" story before, and I didn't want somebody who had read my previous work to be caught unawares by something they didn't want to read. I'm not a fan of the angst myself. So, yes again, no deaths in this one (legal notification: temporary deaths which could be argued were no death at all in previous stories do not count. Anybody who argues differently agrees through writ and sanctum and throw-some-more-Latin-terms-in-here that they are a poo-face.**

**afanoffanfic: Freddie always deserves to win. Yet, somehow, it seems most fanfic writers (including me) feel they really need to make it very difficult for him to do so. Ah well, hard-earned victory always tastes the sweetest.**

**WhiteKnightRo: Nobody has given me that review yet, but if they did (not that review, but something like it, since now it would just be copying your example) I would have to applaud their creativity (but then chastise them for not elaborating exactly why it blew and so forth). I feel the **_**Dance Master USA**_** thing is okay, because it's a game, also, so it's just something else for Mama to win. **

**TbayleyT: The Carly shouting at them and the tag game are two different things. Competing to get Carly shouting at them was a different game they played outside the tag game. Sorry if I confused anybody on that. After reading that chapter again, I do realize I should have (as I did with this chapter) given at least half a day between writing it and editing it.**


	3. Chapter 3: Playing by Ear

Chapter 3: Playing by Ear

**Disclaimer: There was once a time I owned **_**iCarly**_**, but then I woke up and I had eaten my pillow. Fluffy.**

Carly didn't know what happened to Sam and Freddie, but the last few days they had barely talked to each other. Usually when they fought or were angry at each other, she could barely hear herself think over their screaming. But they weren't fighting; they weren't saying anything. They moved around each other as if the other person wasn't even there. She had never encountered such a situation with them before. And when she tried to broach the subject with them, they acted like _she_ was the one acting crazy.

"Nub probably got a new action figure to play with. I'm surprised he's even talking to you," Sam had told her.

"I don't know, Carly. I guess Sam and I haven't really had a reason to talk. It will change soon enough, I bet. I'll probably do something wrong like touch her bacon or something," Freddie had said, shrugging.

But whenever they weren't near each other, she would always catch them looking at the other. Whatever had happened between them must have been pretty bad that they wouldn't even fight about it.

Freddie caught up with Sam after one of his classes, making sure there were still people in the hallway in case Sam tried to tag him. He glanced down at what she was wearing, trying not to let her see. She was definitely wearing tighter clothing than she usually did. Maybe she was trying to make him give up that way.

"Sam, you got to cut it out. Carly is freaking out. You should just stop this game."

"I don't quit, Benson. You, on the other hand, are more than welcome to anoint me as your victor. I'm sure you've made me a crown by now." He shook his head. Why couldn't she just stop? He moved a little closer to her and was happy to see the confident expression on her face falter.

"Sam, is this really what you want? What we're doing, it doesn't really seem like much of a game, where it's heading and all. What are you getting out of it?"

She moved closer and looked up into his face and snarled, "I don't quit."

He backed up and spread his arms. "Then let the games continue." They eyed each other as he slowly backed up the hallway, before he finally turned and headed to his next class.

The class was computer programming. Even though they had only been at school for less than a month, he was already caught up for the semester, since the teacher posted the syllabus online before school started. That gave him time to think while other students worked on their projects.

He had given Sam an out. Both of them knew it would become more intense from here on out, and he really hadn't expected her to continue on. Just quit. That's all she had to do. Of course, that was also all he had to do. But he didn't want to quit; he was unwilling to, which is why he tried to force her to. He thought about saying, "no, Sam, I've decided that I'm not going to kiss you or touch you..." Well, that was just stupid. Hadn't he been dreaming about those very things? Let her be the one.

When he got home that day, he took his homework out to the dining room table and worked on it. His mom was sitting near him, and he used that to force himself to keep his mind on his school work. He wasn't doing a very good job of it at school, and he didn't want to have to answer to anybody about a drop in grades. How would he explain that? "Oh, I was thinking about Sam's boobs."

Normally he would go over to Carly's, but he knew Sam was there. He wanted to be there, to spend time with her, but the game made things difficult. Despite whatever feelings he had for her, she had been, for at least the last few years, his friend, and he didn't want to lose that. Sam was not the type of person to really discuss something like friendship, but he had always felt like she thought about at least that part of their relationship the same way he did. He wanted her. He wanted her badly. But he didn't want to ruin their friendship; he didn't want to ruin _iCarly_; he didn't want to force Carly into the middle of their broken friendship.

That was why he went on the fire escape after he had finished his homework. He wanted to think. Maybe he should quit, if only to save their friendship. If Carly was already noticing problems, then he had to do something. Didn't he?

He sat on his lawn chair. He had been there when Sam came out to him to apologize for telling everybody he had never kissed a girl before. That had been when they first kissed. And then she had left and he had watched her walk away, for the first time really noticing that Sam looked, well, like a girl he wouldn't mind kissing again. He realized that he had been looking at her ass and looked quickly away. Kiss or no kiss, he was sure that was likely to earn him an ass-kicking.

He was deep in thought, so he never noticed her until she spoke to him.

"What you thinking about, lover?" she whispered in his ear. He started to get up, and she pushed him on the chest. "Stay," she ordered. She was behind him, her face close to his head, the strands of her hair on his shirt.

He could feel her breath against his ear.

"Seems like Freddie has been listening in on conversations he shouldn't have," she said. She could have told him she was going to stick an ice pick in his neck, and he probably would have nodded, so entranced was he by the heat of her breath in his ear. "So you found out about my little...neck situation. You shouldn't think you're special, Freddie. It could have been anybody who touched my neck." He remembered she had said that to Carly that night.

"Sam, we should stop," he said, trying not to move.

"Are you quitting now, Benson?" she crooned.

"You're my friend, Sam," he said.

She paused. She didn't move her mouth away from his ear. He felt her chin on his shoulder. And he wanted nothing more at the moment to simply turn his head and capture her lips with his. But he had to say it.

"And I'm your friend, too, Sam, although I know you'll try to deny it. I don't want to not be your friend."

"Are you quitting, Freddie?" she asked again, and there was no seduction in that voice, no anger...just the question.

_Yes. Yes, I am. Yes. _"No."

He felt her smile against his ear. "So, we're friends." She flicker her tongue against his earlobe, and he gasped. "You're my friend, and I'm your friend. Don't you think friendship should be able to withstand something like this?" She let her tongue flick his earlobe again. "Yeah, you found out something about me, Freddie. Did you really think I don't know anything about you?" She took his earlobe into her mouth and lightly sucked on it. Sam brought her arms around and caressed his chest.

"How...how do you-"

"You remember when I stuck my tongue in your ear? I know you didn't like that, but I felt you tense up before I did it." As she spoke she continued to apply light kisses and licks to his ear. Freddie tried to adjust himself so she wouldn't notice the erection pushing at his jeans. There was no way she wouldn't be able to notice. "At first, I thought it was it was just because you were scared of me, like always. But then every time somebody tried to whisper in your ear after that, you wouldn't let them. So I decided a little experiment was in order." She ran her finger along his ear, and he unconsciously tilted his head, so she would have better access. He remembered. She had said maybe he should get an earring, and had run her finger along his ear, like she was doing now, and he had practically jumped off the couch, trying to cover by saying he just wasn't an earring person.

"You know, I take back my apology for slapping you that time. On second thought, I'm not sorry at all," she said, and then she bit his earlobe. He cried out, but not in pain.

"Sa...am," he said. Then he said nothing after that. What was there to say? _Please don't stop?_

"I've seen you look at me, Freddie," she whispered. "You think I don't notice, but I do. I've seen you look down my shirt." She sucked on his earlobe again. She put her mouth right against his ear, whispering softly. "You know why I'm going to win, Freddie? Because I know you want me. I bet you dream about me at night, don't you?" Freddie made every effort not to move, not to give anything away. He knew one reason Sam was so good was because she could spot when she landed a blow; he couldn't let her see. His eyes widened when he saw her hand moving down the length of his body, hovering above it. "I bet you think about me naked, don't you, Freddie? You think about putting your hands on my body, of touching me. Of being inside me." Her hand was above his crotch. If she put her hand down an inch, she would feel his hardness. "You know I felt you. When you were kissing my neck." She bit his ear again. He wanted to scream. "I'm going to win, Freddie, because this is just a game for me. So you can just quit now, and save yourself the embarrassment." She bit his ear one last time, and then got up. The last bite was harder, but the pain didn't hurt him. She was right about something, that was true. He knew his ears were sensitive, but he hadn't know just how much.

"Sam," he said. She stopped. "I'm not going to quit." He was looking at her and he still barely caught it. Nobody else would have seen it, but Freddie had learned to read Sam, both because he feared her and he loved her. There was a flash of doubt on her face.

He smiled at her, and this time the doubt didn't flash; it stayed. "I don't believe you, Sam. I don't think it could have been anyone else kissing your neck. I think it had to be me. I think you wanted it to be me. I think you said you're not sorry for slapping me, because you liked me knowing about your neck. You want me to kiss your neck." She said nothing. "I won't think any less of you if you quit." He had no idea how, but he felt he had somehow gotten the upper hand. He had close to passing out from pleasure moments before, and yet now Sam was the one who looked like she had taken a hit.

Then she smirked. "We'll see, nub. It's your turn next." And then she was gone.

So that was it. No more doubt. No turning back. No matter what, he was going to play the game to the end. No more running away, no more hiding. He was going to go into Carly's apartment and show Sam he wasn't afraid.

He looked down at his crotch. Okay, not going just quite yet. _Puppies in a blender, dead chickens, Miss Briggs making out with Mr. Howard, Mom making out with Lewbert..._

He continued his litany for a few moments until he was sure it was safe. Then he went over to Carly's.

Sam glanced at him from the couch, and then turned back to the TV. She had a huge bowl of popcorn clutched on her stomach. Whatever she was watching sounded violent. He walked to the couch and stopped where her legs rested on the coffee table.

"Gonna let me by?" he asked.

Sam grunted and pulled her legs in.

"Hey, Freddie," Carly called from the kitchen.

Freddie stopped. "Hey, Carly, what's up?"

"You want to move your ass? You're blocking my view," Sam said. He looked down at her and caught a blush on her face before she turned away. He had stopped in front of her, and it hadn't been his ass blocking her view. Without meaning to, he had his crotch at eye-level with Sam.

"Sorry," he said, smirking. Sam on the fire escape had seemed without shame or embarrassment, but she was different here. He looked at her.

"What are you staring at, nub?" she asked, after a moment.

"Give me some popcorn," he said.

"Make your own. This is mine."

"Sam, that's enough popcorn for three counties. Let me have some."

She sighed and allowed a small space at the top of the bowl for him to reach in. He grabbed a piece. Glancing at her to make sure she was looking, he tossed it high up in the air and caught it in his mouth.

"Big deal, Benson. You think I can't do that?" He shrugged. She picked up a piece of popcorn and tossed it up, catching it in her mouth. She grinned at him.

He smiled. He took out a piece of popcorn in each hand and tossed them, moving his mouth quickly to catch them both.

"Oh, it's on," she said, and reached into the bowl.

"What's going on?" Spencer asked Carly, who was staring at her two friends. He had walked into the kitchen past the two friends on the couch, who hadn't taken note of him.

"Nothing. Just Sam and Freddie being...Sam and Freddie."

"Sam, that was my piece," Freddie complained.

"Interception!" Sam said.

"There are no interceptions in popcorn, Sam!"

"I thought you said they were mad at each other," Spencer said.

"I guess they're not anymore. I'm just glad they're back to normal now," she said.

**A/N: I'm not really sure why I decided that Freddie had ultra-sensitive ears (I know I gave Sam the neck thing just because I like necks). I know I read in some other fanfic about him liking his ears kissed and bit, but I can't remember what story it was. I did immediately think for no reason that it sounded like Freddie, so there you go.**

**Thank you for reviews from: aaamber, Julefor, sammiilizziee, MattFujiwara, Darsnider, wazzabinho, adore202, Purple550, Geekquality, maxiefae, KarmaLord, clarksonfan, StandardNostalgia, crybaby452, mamaluvsangst, alaskan-anime-girlie21, afanoffanfic, and Margot is me.**

**Julefor: Well, as you can see, Sammy does know a little something about young Mr. Benson that she can use to her advantage. But, as you also point out, he is also a teenage boy, so Sam doesn't have to put in as much effort to it as he does. Of course, the next round belongs to Freddie, so he's going to have to take it to another level again...and do so without getting killed by Sam. And, yeah, I wasn't trying to hide the fact that Freddie was having a dream; that's why I started out with italicization. I just wanted to let everybody know where's Freddie's head is at (his big one, I mean...well, and his other one, too, I guess). I'm kind of looking at this story as my version of the **_**iCarly**_** that doesn't make it onto the 22 minutes of each episode, in which even the nicest, kindest, and sweetest of boys will get their brain cells confuzzled by breasts (and we've seen an episode or two in which Freddie has shown more than a little appreciation for the female form, and if that is how he is on the G-rated **_**iCarly**_**, then, well...).**

**Darsnider: well, we certainly know why Sam goes evil bitch on him (other than she's good at it-said with admiration, of course). **

**Wazzabinho: Wow, another comment about me obviously being a guy. I think next chapter I'm going to force Sam to take Freddie to the store to buy tampons, so she can discuss having those "not so fresh feelings." Nah, maybe in another story. If I hadn't betrayed my guyness by now, just wait until Freddie does the unbelievable and goes to Gibby for advice. I'm not sure when that chapter is coming (probably not within the next two or three), but I've already laughed my head off several times just **_**thinking**_** about what I was going to write in it.**

**Margot is me: Yeah, there probably aren't going to be as many twists and turns in this story as there were in my last story (of course, then I didn't have any idea what the end result was going to be until I was almost to the end). Am I pretty sure of what the ending is going to be? Yes, and you probably are, too. But...things change. And I don't think it's going to be a non-bumpy ride (hmmm...I guess that was a double-entendre there). **

**afanoffanfic: But voice it and eventually wish becomes reality. It's Freddie's turn next.**

**Please leave a review, and if you haven't read or reviewed my other stories, I'd appreciate if you did. There are parts of "Box Kicker" that are some of my favorite things I've written, and the story's getting left in the dust, review-wise.**


	4. Chapter 4: Stalling Tactics

Chapter 4: Stalling Tactics

**Disclaimer: There was an old man. He had been married, but his wife had died many years ago. They had no children. He occupied his time walking the woods every day, sometimes for four or five hours. Once he came upon a snake that had been injured. He carefully picked it up and took it home. For days, he nursed the snake to health. The snake would curl up in the old man's lap and allow him to feed it mice. Finally, the old man saw it was time to bring the snake back to its habitat. He took the snake to where he had found it and set it on the ground. He bent down to give the snake one final farewell, and the snake struck, biting him and shooting deadly venom into the old man's veins. As the old man lay dying, he said, "Why? I took care of you." The snake hissed at the old man, "you knew I was a snake when you picked me up." The snake started to slither away, but then turned back, it's crooked tongue caressing the old man's pale skin. "Oh, yeah, only Dan Schneider owns **_**iCarly**_**. Just letting you know."**

Freddie Benson woke up in a good mood. The night before he and Sam had acted like they always did. Carly had even made a comment about how she was glad they were getting along again. He and Sam glanced at each other, sharing a secret smile. They had been getting along fine, but not in a way Carly would have known or understood.

Freddie had a plan for tagging Sam. She had told him the night before she knew things about him. But she thought the only thing he knew about her was her neck, and that was only because he had eavesdropped. Sam was wrong, though, and he looked forward to proving it.

He thought it was funny how he had worried so much the day before, and now it was like he didn't have a care in the world, which, in all honesty, he had to admit he should. If he was going to do what he planned to do, then that was definitely moving up the ladder a little. If Sam didn't knock his head off for it, then he didn't know if she would attack him for any subsequent action, and what did that mean?

He knew Sam expected him to retaliate quickly. So he took every opportunity to get her alone and then didn't do anything. He knew that wouldn't knock her completely off her guard, but he might confuse her enough so that he was able to make his move when he really planned to.

That night they had rehearsal in the studio. He brought his backpack with him, because he thought what he had in it would help throw Sam off. All he needed was Carly to play her part. Luckily for him, she was actually still going out with that Matt kid, which was surprising, since most of Carly's relationships didn't last too long, and the ones who did turned out to be with real losers. Eventually, Matt called her, and she left the room to talk to him. Freddie got up and blocked the doorway before Sam could make a break for it, although she didn't seem to make much of an effort. She eyed him and sat down in the bean bag. He reached down into his backpack.

"You want some jerky, Sam?"

"What?"

"Jerky. Beef jerky. I thought you would like some. If not, I'll just eat it." He pulled a piece out and started to chew on it. He hated the stuff, really, but he knew Sam loved it.

"Give it to me," she commanded.

He smiled and walked over to her. He held out the remainder of the jerky, and she reached out cautiously and snatched it from his hand.

"Oh, Sam, they're playing a special on the twentieth anniversary of the last _Galaxy Wars_ film, so I think I'll head home. Will you let Carly know?"

"Whatever, Freddoofus," she said, yawning. But he had seen that look in her eyes. The surprise...and something else. He left without another look back at her.

He lay on his bed that night, unable to sleep, thinking about what he planned for Sam the next night, and he wondered about that other look on her face, the one behind the surprise. Was it disappointment? Had Sam been looking forward to his next move?

At school the next day, he would catch Sam sneaking a look at him every once in a while. She wondered what he had planned, he knew. Whatever she might have thought the night before, Freddie knew that Sam was clever and calculating, and she had to know that everything he had done was a ploy. He was going to strike, she would know, but would she guess when? If she did, then his plan would be for naught, and he would have to come up with something else. There was also a very good chance that he could be interrupted during his tag, and that would give Sam victory. He didn't want her to have victory. He didn't want victory, either. At least not yet. He wanted to see how far the game would go, how far Sam was willing to take it.

After he got home, he double-checked his window, making sure it was locked before he left. He was going to check it when he come home later that night, too. He double-checked the locks on the front door, just to make sure they hadn't been tampered with. That seemed somewhat paranoid, but he had learned what not being paranoid around Sam could lead to.

Carly had invited him over, but he told her he was going to the arcade. He didn't need Sam to see his face and realize that he was planning something. He did go to the arcade, just in case Sam got it into her head to check for any reason. She probably wouldn't, but he would have if he was in her place, and he had learned to not give into his fear, but incorporate it into his plans.

Freddie's plan relied on several things. The first thing was Pam Puckett. Sam's mother had been infamous for her short-term relationships, but the current one had been going on for a month. And her paramour was extremely fond of bingo, which he played every Wednesday night. And Pam went with him. So, on that night, Sam would spend the night with Carly, although she really spent almost more time at Carly's than she did at her own home anyway.

The second thing Freddie's plan relied on was Schlockfest Theatre on Channel 2. Sam had become obsessed with low budget horror films from the 50s, 60s and 70s that played on the channel every Wednesday night. Carly wouldn't watch the films, so Sam had to go downstairs to watch them. The movies also drove Spencer away.

Freddie knew a few other things that would help with his plan. Sam would want something to eat while she was watching the movie, and for some reason that she had explained to him, but he still didn't really understand, bacon was the best food of choice for horror movies. So she would be in the kitchen. He knew the front door would be locked, either because Spencer would get freaked out because of the movies or because Sam would want to keep Freddie out. But the back door didn't have a latch. And Spencer had given Freddie's mom an emergency key.

But it was the last thing Freddie knew that he really was planning to use.

Freddie's mom was working a double-shift that night, so he didn't have to worry about her catching him sneaking out. He grabbed the key to Carly's apartment from where it was stored, and made his way to the backside of their apartment. He took his shoes off and set them to the side of the door.

He had constructed a periscope-like device from an old dentist's mirror his mom had used to inspect his teeth. He pushed it under the door and brought his head close to the floor to see. It took him a while to adjust himself to this new visual layout. He couldn't see much, because of the table and the countertop blocking the view of the living room. He looked at the watch he had brought with him. It was after ten. Carly was sure to be in bed. It was likely Spencer was, too, but he was a bit of a long shot. All he needed to do was wait for Sam to appear.

It took her nearly ten minutes. All Freddie could think was that she had already had a lot to eat, so she didn't need to fill up quite so soon. He angled the mirror to see her. He smirked. Just as he had expected. Sam was wearing boxer shorts, a large white T-shirt, and a pair of blue socks, essentially the same thing she wore every time she watched Schlockfest Theatre. He had been counting on that.

He cautiously put the key in the door. He knew he had to move quick, and he wasn't sure what Sam would do. She could scream, alerting Spencer, and foiling Freddie's plan. That didn't seem like something Sam would do. More likely, she would hit him in the head with a frying pan. That was why he had to both let her know it was him and make his move before she could stop it.

He took a breath in. He let it out. He unlocked the door and pushed it open at the same time. He pushed off the door frame and slid across the floor on his socks. Sam turned around, and her eyes widened.

"Son of a-"

And then she was in his arms. He pressed his lips to hers. Ham. She had eaten ham. He should have known. He pushed her lips open and pushed his tongue into her mouth, meeting her tongue. She returned the kiss, and for a while she tried to be the more aggressive kisser before letting him control the pace. His hands were on the small of her back, and he was fully aware there was nothing but a thin piece of cotton separating his hands and her bare back. Her arms went around his neck, and her body moved closer to his.

It was his time to tag, and yet she not only accepted his kisses, she returned them. Hadn't she said it was only a game to her?

He pulled away from her lips and moved his mouth over her throat. He let his teeth lightly push against her skin. He heard her moan, and her fingers moved from his neck to his back, where her nails pushed like tiny pinpoints.

"Freddie...you're...oh, god...not playing...by the rules," she said, and yet she took one of her hands and used it to cradle the back of his head, pulling him forward, as if she could somehow push his mouth further onto her neck.

He had waited for her to say it. The rule was that the person tagging had to go beyond what had been done during the last tagging. Though neither of them had specifically stated this was a rule, they both knew it. He needed her to say it, because he knew what he was going to do, and he knew why it had to be this night. Because Sam always wore the same type of thing during those movies, and one night they had been watching and she had spilled her drink on her shirt, and he had realized before she went to change her shirt that Sam wasn't wearing a bra. Because this was practically her house, and Sam dressed how she wanted in her house.

With a speed he hadn't thought he had within himself, he took his left hand and shot it up the front of her shirt and cupped her breast. Sam gasped, and he took the opportunity to meet her mouth again. For a moment she pulled her head back slightly, which only served to push her breast into his hand further. He ran his thumb along her nipple and felt it harden instantly.

As he had so many times since this game started, he thought, _well, she's going to kill me now_. The thought terrified him, but somehow it in no way matched his exhilaration and excitement. Maybe he would die a virgin, but at least he got to touch a boob.

Sam didn't kill him. He was ready to let everything go as soon as she indicated he had gone too far (most likely by kneeing him in the balls). But after her initial reaction, she pushed again, grasping his upper lip between her lips. Part of his mind was overwhelmed with the aggression with which she kissed him, and the rest was occupied with the softness of her breast. He stroked it gently. And then Sam moved her lips so that they were on his neck, licking him, kissing him. It didn't feel as good as when she kissed his ears, but he could still understand what she liked about it.

He gave her nipple a slight squeeze between his fingers, and he felt her moan against his throat. She gave a slight nip with her teeth, and he somehow understood that she wasn't telling him to stop, but was indicating that she liked it. He rolled the nipple between his fingers gently, and then he felt that he had to see her breasts.

She licked his adam's apple, and he raised his head. That was when he saw Spencer's door start to open.

Freddie dropped.

Sam still had her eyes closed, and then suddenly her lips were against nothing. She looked down, where Freddie was on the floor.

"What the-"

"What's going on, Sam?"

She spun around to see Spencer standing just outside his door, looking at her curiously.

"Uh-"

"What was that noise?" he asked.

"I burped," she responded quickly.

"You burped? That was pretty loud. You might want to get that checked out."

"Well, you know-eeee-um, bacon-flavored soda." Spencer stared at her. Freddie grinned, letting his fingers trace lightly up Sam's bare leg. Spencer couldn't see him from his position. Of course, Spencer could come over there and see him, and Freddie doubted that he and Sam could come up with a reasonable explanation. And yet, somehow, he wasn't concerned.

Sam brushed her feet at him, but he blocked them easily. He traced along the length of her thigh with his fingers, until he was near the edge of her boxer shorts.

"Sam, are you sure you're okay? You look a little flushed," Spencer said.

"I had some jalepeno tacos, Spence. You probably don't want to get near me, if you know what I mean."

"Gotcha. Okay, I guess I'll go back to bed. Let me know if you feel like you're gonna get sick, okay."

"You betcha, Spencer," she said. As soon as Spencer closed his door, she swung her foot back harder and hit Freddie in the gut with it. He made an "oof" sound and then started giggling.

"What are you laughing at, nub?" she growled.

"You have tiny Elvish feet," he said and pointed at them. She just looked at him.

"I'm going to watch my movies. Make me bacon." She went to the couch.

He stood up, gave her an elaborate bow, and began to make bacon. He fixed an entire package and brought it over to her on a plate. She pointed at the coffee table, indicating for him to set it down.

"Are you gonna watch?" she asked, with a tone that implied that she didn't care either way.

"What is it this week?" he asked.

"Creatures from the Darkest of Lakes, the Blackest of Lagoons, from the watery grave," she intoned and grinned at him.

He shrugged and sat down next to her.

She put her legs over his knees and gestured for him to hand her the bacon. He leaned over and grabbed it and presented it to her.

"Thanks, nub," she said.

His hand rested on one of her knees. She didn't note it nor did he move it. It just seemed natural to him.

"You can see the zipper," he said, pointing at the screen.

"Shut up. You're ruining the magic," she said, distractedly.

He glanced at the clock. He had to leave within forty-five minutes, or else Sam could tag him back.

"Freddie, get up."

Freddie opened his eyes. Spencer's face was roughly six inches from his own. What was Spencer doing in his bedroom? He looked around. No, he wasn't in his bedroom. He was in the Shays' living room. He turned to his left and saw Sam with her head on the arm rest of the couch, her mouth slightly open, light little wheezes coming from her. The empty plate was clutched in her arm. Her legs were still over Freddie's legs. _She looks cute_, Freddie thought. Cute. He had never thought Sam looked cute. He had thought she looked scary, sexy, beautiful, dangerous...all those things. But cute...that was more of a Carly thing than a Sam thing. But there Sam was, with all her cuteness. He looked to his other side, where her feet were. He smiled. Cute with her tiny, Elvish feet.

"Freddie?"

Oh, yeah, he had forgotten Spencer was there.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Half an hour until seven," Spencer said. "I figured you might want to get back to your place before your mom came home. She would probably have questions."

"Oh, yeah, thanks." Freddie extracted himself from Sam. He took the plate from her arm and took it to the kitchen and put it in the sink. He opened the back door and grabbed his shoes. He turned to see Spencer looking at him.

_Be confident_, Freddie told himself.

"Cool, I'll see you later, Spencer." He reached for the front door.

"Uh, Freddie..." _Damn_.

"What's up, Spencer?"

"I might have some questions, too." They both turned when they heard a smacking sound. Sam twisted around in her sleep, continuing to smack her lips. _I bet she's eating something in her sleep_, Freddie thought. Spencer turned back to him and gestured to the hallway. Freddie gestured for him to follow, rolling his eyes as soon as he turned away.

"What's going on with you and Sam?" Spencer asked as soon as they were in the hallway.

"What are you talking about? I was just watching a movie with her. We've done it before."

"Freddie, I'm not Carly. She might not understand that's something going on, but I know there is."

"I-" Freddie couldn't think of anything to follow.

Spencer sighed. "Freddie, I kind of think of Sam as my little sister. I've known her so long, and she is at my place more than she is at her own. So I'm a little protective of her."

"I would never hurt Sam," Freddie protested.

Spencer nodded, as if he expected nothing less. "I know you wouldn't do it deliberately, Freddie, but sometimes I think you only think about the Sam who can beat up anybody either you or I know. Sam's tough, but in some ways, she's not always that tough."

"I know that," Freddie whispered. He did. Carly was the girly-girl and Freddie was the nerd, but Sam, in her own way, was more sensitive than either of them.

"You know I think of you as a little brother, Freddie. Which makes what I think is going on a little squicky."

"I'm not having sex with Sam!" Freddie turned around, to make sure no one had heard him. He whispered, "I'm not."

"Okay. You're not. Yet. But you probably want to be careful, in many ways. Because Sam deserves somebody who loves her." He clapped Freddie on the shoulder and turned back to his apartment.

"What if I do?" Freddie asked.

"What?" Spencer asked, turning back to him.

"What if I do love her?" Freddie asked.

Spencer thought about it. "Then you probably want to be really, really careful. See you later, Freddie."

**A/N: Wow, I have a bunch of new readers and reviewers. If you haven't read my work before, I have to warn you-I'm addicted to long author's notes. I'm sorry; I know some people hate them. Also, I'm male. That still seems to be a little strange to some people, and I'm getting a complex about it now. I'm sending you the psychiatrist bill.**

**I touch upon it below, but, yes, Sam is somewhat OOC, compared to how she is on the show, but I do believe, if allowed outside the confines of what is acceptable on the show, this could happen. As for her aggressiveness, well, it is Sam, and it's with Freddie, so, judge's ruling, I'm going to allow it!**

**Thanks for reviews from: Julefor, twelvex, MattFujiwara, Moviepal, mamaluvangst, Darsnider, TheRockAngel, KarmaLord, WhiteKnightro, maxiefae, crybaby452, Termite Tornado, axel100, Vetifer, sammiiilizziee, , pos, Geekquality, clarksonfan, werepyre Zele, Eat-Sleep-Read, afanoffanfic, Kechara7881, kimmyAllen, myjumpingsocks, lovesux93, alaskan-anime-girlie21, and sincerely-sweet.**

**Julefor: No, I know what you meant. You know me, though, sometimes I just have this overwhelming need to over-explain things. Over. Hmmm...do you think Sam said that to cover other things? I wonder. Quite a few people picked up on the harshness of her comment...but still waters don't run deep, do they? You are right that it might be an incentive to a guy, but it's not a guy, it's Freddie (wait, am I a guy?). I thought it would be too cliche to have an angel and devil on his shoulders, but he does have to weigh pros and cons, because it's Sam...and he's Freddie.**

**twelvex: I lived in Germany for three years. Ich spreche ein bischen Deutsche. Um, that's pretty much it. I suck.**

**WhiteKnightro: I always felt like Sam and Freddie had this communication simpatico that Carly never got, and I just like when they can say stuff like that and it just...whoosh...over her head. I don't necessarily think it's "impossible", nor do I think Sam is necessarily the "sexual assassin" she is making herself out to be. Obviously, I can't really argue too much that Sam is out of character, especially when compared to the show. I hope by the end of the story you feel that, if she isn't truly "in character", that I did my damnedest to get as close as I could.**

**crybaby452: I love how everybody (and I include myself) always hopes that things turn out well, when stories are built on conflict. I promise some turning-out-well and some conflict.**

**pos: Happy ending? I don't know if I can do that. I'm not really known for them. If you're talking about a different kind of "happy ending", all I can suggest is keep reading. By the way, just kidding above, I think most of my stories so far have ended with what could be qualified as a happy ending.**

**Eat-Sleep-Read: How did I come up with it? For some reason, the image of Sam and Freddie playing tag (I mean real tag, not like I'm writing it) just popped into my head. Then I thought of a couple of perverts who voiced a preference for a little more hotness between Sam and Freddie in my last story (I'm looking at you, SeddierFTW and PurpleJerk-although I guess at least one of them technically shouldn't be reading this ), and the story just sort of came together. **

**afanoffanfic: I can see what you're saying about the nastiness, but I would like to point out more than her nastiness Freddie's reaction to it. And what Spencer said in this chapter. There's a reason for the game; I didn't do it just to get them in sexual situations (well, not entirely). And I don't know about the friends thing. I have more male acquaintances, but when it comes to actual friends, except for my best friend, all of mine are female. And it's unlikely to go beyond that, unless I'm willing to have my wife do something to me that would make even Sam squeamish. **

**sincerely-sweet: I'd watch it, too, but somehow I don't see **_**iCarly**_** being moved to Cinemax anytime soon.**


	5. Chapter 5: Reversing the Hold

Chapter 5: Reversing the Hold

**Disclaimer: And so it was that on the fourth day Edmund set out on his quest, with only his horse and his trusted companion Targas. All of the town and his family lined the roads to see him off, and he felt pride in his chest, for he knew what he did was noble. True, he might never again see the village of his youth, but were he to die, it would be a good death. And, so, with righteousness in his heart, he set forth. As he crested the last hill, after which sight of his village would be forever lost, he heard his youngest sister yell, "you'll never own **_**iCarly**_**!" Gods, how he'd like to strangle that twerp.**

Sam never doubted. It didn't matter whether her convictions were correct or false; she never doubted. It was a quality Freddie found both admirable and frustrating. Because he doubted all the time. As soon as he was convinced, something happened to change his belief. Spencer had done that with their conversation in the hallway.

He tried to talk to her several times about it, but she always circumvented it. Whenever they were around people, she acted the same. She would insult him, and he would retaliate. They were Sam and Freddie. But as soon as Carly or whoever else might have been there left, Sam made herself scarce.

If it didn't bother him so much Freddie might have found it amusing. It was Sam's turn to tag, but she was the one who was avoiding being alone with him.

Freddie couldn't think of anything else to do, so he turned to Spencer. He didn't tell Spencer what he had on his mind, only that he needed time alone to speak with Sam. Spencer agreed, and when Freddie came to the apartment that afternoon, Spencer quickly took Carly down to the Groovy Smoothie. Sam made an effort to get up from the couch, but Freddie had already locked the door. She sat back down and feigned nonchalance.

"Brains are getting scrambled there, Fredweird. It's not your turn."

"I know." He grabbed a chair and sat catty-corner to her. "We need to talk."

"You breaking up with me, Freddie?" she asked, smirking.

"Sam, we need to talk about this game."

"Nothing to talk about," she said, looking away.

"I think there is. What kind of game is this, anyway? I mean, unless one of us quits you know where that's going to end up, right?" He felt a little lightheaded just broaching the subject. Sam's cheeks reddened a little, but she said nothing. "What we've done is more than I've done with any other girl-"

"And, what, I'm a slut?" she asked, looking at him furiously.

"No, Sam, jeez. I know you're not. Believe me, I've been around enough times when you and Carly seem to forget I'm there and can hear you. No guy should know so much about menstruation!" he said, and was relieved to see a small smirk from her. "But, Sam, you said it yourself, this is just a game to you." He got up and sat on the couch next to her. He took her hand in his. She looked down at their joined hands and then at his face. "We're heading to uncharted territory here. We _have_ been. Again, we both know where this game could end up. Do you really want _that_ to be with a nub like me?"

In one motion, she pulled her hand from his and threw her leg over him, so that she was straddling him, a knee on either side of his thighs. She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him off the back of the couch, so that their faces were mere inches apart.

"You're going to listen to me, Fredward Benson, and you're going to listen good, because I'm not going to say it again. Yes, I'm a virgin, and, yes, no boy has had the balls to even try to grab my boob before. If I wanted to stop it, you know better than anybody that I could. I know what I'm doing."

"Sam, this can't be a game."

"It's going to be," she said. She inhaled, and then looked away. "Obviously, you're into me. I can't blame you; Mama is kind of hot. And you're not completely undesirable." She looked back at him. "You know, nobody ever fights back with me...nobody at school, not Melanie, not Spencer, not even Carly, usually. But you...you always fight back. You're fighting back now, even though I can feel your hard-on."

Freddie blushed, and she pushed his face lightly with her hand.

"I'm not a delicate flower, Freddie. If you want to quit this, then quit. But don't think for a moment that you are taking advantage of me or that I couldn't crush you with my thumb anytime I wanted to. Oh, and also..." She reached down and pulled his nose between her fingers.

"Ow, Sam."

"The only person who gets to call you a nub is me. Got it?"

"Fine, Sam. I'm your nub." She released his nose. "But, Sam-"

She groaned. "You're such a girl, Benson."

"Apparently you're feeling differently," he shot back and was rewarded with another smirk. "I have to tell you, Sam, I'm a guy, and, not saying you're not great and all, but it doesn't really take a lot for that to happen." He gestured down at his crotch.

She leaned down and moved her face to his side, so that he found her once again near his ear. "So, you're saying that you don't think about having sex with me?"

"Sam."

"Do you?"

"Yes, okay."

"Do you think about having sex with Carly?" Her face was hidden, and he couldn't read her expression.

"No," he whispered.

"Freddie."

"No, I don't." His childhood crush on Carly had been more a thing of worship rather than desire, and now that the crush was gone, she was more like a sister to him.

"Do you think of having sex with other girls?"

"I...I am a guy, Sam." He felt her snort laughter against his ear.

She moved her head back. "Who do you dream about?"

"What?"

"Who do you dream about? When you have those types of dreams? Who do you dream about?" Freddie saw the expression on her face, one he seldom saw on Sam Puckett, something that was both hopeful and scared, and he found he could not lie to her even if he wanted to.

"You," he said. She smiled. They heard the door knob starting to turn.

"Maybe I dream about you, too," she whispered, and then moved off him, scooting to the other side of the couch and staring ahead.

Carly and Spencer came in. "Oh, no, are you guys not talking again?" Carly asked.

Sam looked at her. "No, Freddie just disgusts me with his wimpiness. I told him if he wanted a girl to actually like him, he should join the football team. Even the third-string losers get some action. Unlike him."

"Sorry I don't feel the need to do steroids just to get some skanky cheerleader to boff me," Freddie said. Sam smirked at him.

"I think you're just a pussy."

"Sam!" Carly said. "You know I don't like that word."

"What word? Pussy?"

"Cut it out, Sam."

Sam nodded. She looked at Freddie and winked. "Pussy," she said, popping the "p".

"That's it, Sam. Panties, panties, panties."

"Cut that out, Carly."

"Panties. Get your panties here," Carly sang.

"Pussy."

"Panties."

That repeated several times, before Freddie decided he needed to get out of there. Spencer followed him out.

"Everything okay, Freddie?"

"As good as they can be, I guess," Freddie said.

"All right. You know, I'm not going to tell you that you should do this or you shouldn't do that. You're a smart guy, and you'll do the right thing. And trust me, I'm the last person who should ever lecture anybody about...that sort of thing." Freddie nodded. Spencer was a great guy, but with the number of women he dated, he would be more likely to wear the "slut" moniker than Sam was. "I would say that you could come to me if you needed to talk, but I don't really feel comfortable talking about you and Sam...you know, like that." He waved his hands and shook his head, and for the moment reminded Freddie of Carly.

"I'll be careful, Spencer."

"Okay." Spencer looked at him for a moment and then reached out and pinched his cheeks with his fingers. "They grow up so quick."

"Stop, Spencer." Spencer let him go, gave his shoulder a squeeze, and went back into his apartment.

Freddie went into his.

"Oh, Freddie, I'm glad I got to see you before I went to work," his mother said. She had been working extra shifts, which worried Freddie. He was afraid she was going to overexert herself. She was trying to make extra money to buy Freddie a car, believing that if she did, he might be willing to go to college locally rather than further away. Freddie had told her she didn't need to, although he would have liked a car. He didn't like the thought of his mother passing out from exhaustion because of it.

"What's up, Mom?"

"That man, Gunsmoke, stopped by."

Freddie grinned. Gunsmoke, who his mother had hired as a bodyguard when T-Bo had told everybody that Freddie was the one who filmed the Shadow Hammer, had been pretty irritating to Freddie at first, but Gunsmoke had made it a point to check in with Freddie every once in a while, trying to toughen Freddie up. He had taken Freddie to the gym, but Freddie had been able to talk Gunsmoke out of the grueling weightlifting regimen he wanted Freddie on, as long as Freddie promised to combine his fencing with some strength training. They hung out every once in a while. When Freddie had said something about it, Gunsmoke said Freddie looked like he needed a father figure. It turned out that Gunsmoke used to be a Big Brother, but he was unable to do it consistently because his job took him away so often, which was why he sort of adopted Freddie.

"You're a pretty strange father figure," Freddie told him.

"Well, you're a weird kid. We fit," Gunsmoke had said. He didn't smile, which Freddie had thought strange at first, but years of existing with Sam had taught Freddie to read under the surface. Under the surface, Gunsmoke was busting a gut.

"What did he want?" Freddie asked his mother.

"He said he got some tickets from a friend he wanted you to have." She sighed. "It's that fighting stuff. You know how I feel about it." He started to protest, and she waved him off. "I know, I know. I still don't think it's good for you, but Gunsmoke did remind me that you are a wonderful young man. And that I should...trust you." That last part came out a little forcedly. She reached out and pinched his cheeks. "You're growing so fast."

_Are there magnets in my cheeks? Why do people keep pinching parts of my face?_

"Thanks, Mom." He sat down at the dining room table and began working on his homework. Twenty minutes later his mother left.

After he finished his homework, he took a shower. He had thought about going back over to Carly's, but he decided he needed a break from that situation, at least for a night. When he was in the shower, he realized he hadn't locked the door, then he shrugged to himself. So what if he didn't? What was Sam going to do, come over and kiss him? _Let her_, he thought and smiled to himself. He finished and put on boxers and a T-shirt. He sat down on the couch and turned the TV on, but really didn't pay attention to what he was watching.

He snoozed for a bit, and then woke up to find the news was on. It was after ten, so he turned the TV off. The doorbell rang, and he went over and opened the door.

Sam was leaning against the door frame. She was wearing boxers again, but this time she wore a purple T-shirt that was more form-fitting.

"Your mom home?" she asked.

"Working," he said. She nodded and pushed past him into the apartment. He closed the door and turned around.

"What's up, Sam?" She said nothing. She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him to his bedroom. He didn't resist. She pushed him to his bed and then exerted pressure on his chest to make him lie down. She straddled his legs with hers and put one arm on each side of his head, her face only centimeters from his. Her hair fell on to his cheeks.

She smiled. "Tag, you're it." She scooted back and pulled him by his shirt. He wondered what she was doing, and then she pulled his shirt off and pushed him back on the bed.

"Not bad, Benson. A little scrawny, but I hadn't expected the muscles." She caressed his bicep. She grabbed his hands in hers and then pushed them on the bed above his shoulders. She lowered her lips on his. Unlike her aggressiveness the day before, these kisses were gentle, soft. He tried to push up to kiss her more thoroughly, and she pulled away.

"Not your turn, Freddie." He lay back down. She kissed him again, glancing his lips with hers. Then she placed gentle kisses along his cheek, until she came to his ear. She licked it with slow, maddening swirls. A groan escaped his lips.

"Somebody's happy," she whispered in his ear and bit it gently. He could feel his erection straining against his boxers and could feel her heat. She rested comfortably on him, but would move her hips away if he tried to move against her. As soon as he stopped, she let herself down on him again.

"You're a tease," he said.

"Am I?" She moved from his ear and lightly kissed his neck. Her hand moved down and stroked his chest and his abdomen. She pinched his nipple with her fingers, like he had to her the night before. She lowered her mouth down his chest, licking and kissing. One of her breasts grazed the top of his erection, and he felt like he was going to explode, shooting her into the ceiling. She licked his belly button, but stopped when he started giggling.

"Okay, no belly button licking," he heard her mumble against his stomach, and he laughed harder. "Stop laughing." He couldn't. But then she bit his stomach, not hard, but not too gentle, and his laughter stopped. She looked at him, smirking.

_Oh, crap._ She moved her mouth back up his stomach, nibbling as she went. Freddie's body would shiver each time she did so. She slowly licked his nipple.

"So, Freddie, you're into pain, huh?"

"Noooo."

"You're not?" She took his nipple between her teeth and squeezed it gently.

"Oh, shit."

She laughed. "Freddie Benson just cursed. You must really like pain."

"I don't."

She looked at him. She squeezed his nipple between her fingers, harder than she had before. He winced slightly and shook his head. Suddenly she smiled and lowered her head, biting the nipple much harder than she had before. Freddie threw his head back, and a little yell came from him.

"So...no pain. Freddie just likes being bit. Seems like Mama has a new way to torture." Her face was mischievous, but then she came back up and kissed him again. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a deeper kiss.

"You have to stop," he whispered.

"I told you, if you want to quit, Freddie-"

"No, I mean, you have to stop...now." He gestured, and she looked at his crotch, where he was straining against his boxer. And then Sam giggled.

"Oh. Sorry." She rolled off him, but then she rested her head on his chest.

"You're sorry?" he asked, surprised.

She looked at him. "Do you think I hate you, Freddie?" Her look was serious.

"No. I just think you like torturing me."

"Oh, I do," she said. "But even Mama has a heart." She looked down at his crotch and giggled again.

"Sam, for future reference, guys tend to take it personally when you laugh at their...stuff."

"Sorry. Is there something you can do?" She pulled her head up and looked at him. "Because we haven't reached that part of the game, Freddie."

He blushed. "I have something that helps."

"Well, I'm not watching that!"

"Not that! I have this thing I say."

"Like what?"

He sighed. She wasn't going to let him not tell her. Okay. Puppies in a blender, dead chickens, Miss Briggs making out with Mr. Howard, Mom making out with Lewbert, liver and onions, burst eyeballs..."

"Ew," Sam said, and then looked back at his crotch. "Hey, look at that." She moved her hand closer, and he felt himself tense.

"Don't touch it!"

"Geez, sorry." He looked at his face and started giggling again. Then she started laughing so hard she snorted. Freddie took the opportunity to slip his arm around her. If she noticed, she didn't say anything. Finally, her giggles slowed, and then stopped. For several minutes neither of them said nothing.

"Ew, Sam? You made me watch a movie that had about twenty burst eyeballs in it."

"It was the liver and onions. Blech."

"Hey, Sam?"

"Hmmm?" Her ear was on his chest, as if she was listening to his heartbeat.

"I have tickets to the MMA event tomorrow night. Did you want to go with me?"

Her head shot up. "MMA? Really?"

"Yeah Gunsmoke got them for me. Did you wanna go?"

"Are you inviting Carly?"

"He only gave me two tickets. Besides, do you think Carly would really want to go?"

"No, guess not." She moved her head, so that her chin was on his chest now. He could feel her breath on him. "So are you asking me on, like, a date?"

"Uh...we've gone to MMA before, Sam?"

"Not without Carly."

"Sure, but-"

"Because I don't know if I could go on a date. I kind of have this guy on the side. Purely physical thing, believe me, but I am pretty hot, so he might get jealous if he knew I was on a date."

He looked at her. He thought about what Spencer had said: be careful. "I guess we could just go as friends, you know, like we would if we took Carly. 'Cause we are friends."

"Yeah," she said.

"Who make out," he said.

"Play tag," she corrected.

"Play tag. Of course."

They lay there for a while. Freddie wanted to ask her to stay, but he knew if his mom caught a girl in his room, he would have to kiss his freedom goodbye until he turned eighteen.

"Well, it's been fun, nub, but Mama needs her sleep. Pick me up at Carly's tomorrow," she said.

"Pick you up, my ass. That's what I do for dates. Meet me in the hall," he said.

"Yeah, whatever." She left. He knew he would go to her. He always did.

As he expected, he was at the Shays' the next night. Sam was in full MMA mode. She was wearing her Jackson Colt T-shirt and already chanting for blood before Freddie was even in the apartment.

"This is gonna be so awesome," she said.

"Yeah, I'm sorry I can't go with you guys," Carly said.

"No, you're not," Freddie said.

"No, I'm not. Matt's going to take me to a play." She held her hands together and fluttered her eyebrows. Freddie shook his head.

"You ready, Sam?"

"Yes, let's go see some destruction." They did. Maybe it was something in the air, maybe it was the tiny blonde teenager yelling at the cage, calling all the fighters pussies, but fists seemed to be thrown harder, blood seemed to flow more freely. Maybe this wasn't a date, but Freddie had never seen anybody seem more pleased to have Freddie by her side. Whenever anything especially painful happened, she would clutch his wrist and yell excitedly. He had filled her with soda and popcorn and hotdogs. A tiny splash of mustard hung below her bottom lip, and Freddie had never seen a more beautiful sight.

"Back to Carly's?" he asked, as they entered the parking lot.

She shook her head. "No. Mom actually wants to know I'm alive every once in a while." They were alone in his mother's car, but Freddie had no plans to continue the game that night. Something told him not to. They drove in silence. Freddie glanced at Sam, who was throwing tiny jabs and elbows, reenacting her favorite parts of the fight.

When he got out of the car and walked her up her steps, she said nothing.

She turned to him, and to Freddie, she seemed an entirely different Sam, shy and unsure.

"Thanks for tonight. It was pretty fun. You can't tell anybody I had fun spending time with you."

"Never dream of it," he said. Something seemed familiar about them, he thought, something about this situation, something about the way Sam looked at him. Then it came to him.

_This could be bad_, he thought, but he shrugged it off. He leaned in and kissed her. And she returned it. But it wasn't like the kisses they shared during the game. It was like the first kiss. Their first kiss. Her lips were hesitant and her body tense, but not guarded. He pulled back slowly.

"What was that for?" she asked, quietly.

"Your guy on the side. I just want to make sure he knows that, if he's not careful, somebody else will be there to take you away. You let him know, right?"

She nodded, and then she went into the house, looking at him the entire time until she closed the door.

Freddie walked to his car, whistling. Be careful, Spencer had said. He didn't know if he was being careful, but whatever he was doing was...right.

**A/N: Sometimes what Sam says is important, and sometimes it's not necessarily what Sam is saying that is the important thing.**

**Thanks for reviews from Darsnider, alexlee, Julefor, kimmyAllen, lovesux93, wazzabinho, axel100, Moviepal, TheRockAngel, Vetiver, Termite Tornado, pos, maxiefae, afanoffanfic, myjumpingsocks, mamaluvsangst, KarmaLord, clarksonfan, StandardNostalgia, Geekquality, deviocity, and twelvex.**

**Julefor: As for the movie afterward, that's just me doing my ebb-and-tiding. Only so much they can do before we delve into what? I just can't stand it. All you ladies just want to get to the grand finale. Haven't you heard of a little something called foreplay? Haven't you considered my needs? Oh, wait, sorry...um, off-track there. Actually, right now, I see about 10 more chapters after this one, but one of them is probably going to be essentially Sam-free.**

**axel100: Clearing up things too soon is no fun. Yeah, I know there are some things I tend to go into too much detail on (and some things I don't go into enough). Sorry.**

**afanoffanfic: I understand what you're saying, but I hope you stick with it throughout. Unlike Freddie, who is pretty open with his feelings, Sam sometimes has to have them dragged out or else they drip like a broken coffee filter. As for why Spencer went to Freddie and not Sam, I would say it's because he understands both of them and understands who is stronger for a particular type of situation. And also Sam is not very good at being receptive to advice. And I think the last thing anybody would want to do is discuss it with Carly, unless they wanted to see some wacky plan that would backfire. Hope the grumps go away. Thanks for the review, even if you're not necessarily happy with how it's going so far.**

**Twelvex: I think you wrote, "Really? Where in Germany where you?" Sorry if I got that wrong. I was at Ramstein. And, yes, I really do have all the necessary accouterments to be called male. As for Spencer, he knows something is going on, but he doesn't know exactly what it is, so, no, he didn't catch them that night. Spencer's goofy and thinks on a different plane than other people, but he's not a moron, and he can put things together. Game is still safe, though.**


	6. Chapter 6: You Can Trust Me

Chapter 6: You Can Trust Me

**Disclaimer: This one time, this guy was parked up at Make-Out Hill with his girl. It was deserted, because there had been several killings in the area, but the guy was a big football star and wasn't afraid of anything. His girl, though, kept telling him she heard something, but he figured it was just because she was a chick. "I hear something scraping," she said. He shrugged it off and decided to see if he could get under her bra. Suddenly, a face appeared in the passenger's window. A long hook scraped against the window. "Do either of you own **_**iCarly**_**?", the apparition said, with a guttural voice. "No...no," said the football player, who had peed his pants. "Dan does." "Oh, I'll find him, then."**

Freddie saw her first. She and Carly were talking, and they didn't see him, so he took the opportunity to watch her. She rolled her eyes at something Carly said and then shook her head. Freddie watched her hair bounce off her shoulders as she did so, and it made him wonder why he hadn't run his fingers through it yet. _Well, it is my turn_, he thought. He thought about Spencer telling him to be careful, and he wondered why he had said for Sam, and not for Freddie himself, because Freddie was falling more and more in love with her, and he couldn't see how that couldn't be dangerous.

"Hola, Senoritas? Que pasa?"

"Hey, Freddie."

"What's up, Fredly?"

"Sam tells me you had a fun time last night," Carly said.

"Yeah, if Smith had punched that guy one more time, I swear Sam was going to marry him right there."

"That is my dream man," Sam said, folding her hands and fluttering her eyes in an uncanny impersonation of Carly.

"Guys, I know we were supposed to have rehearsal tonight, but do you think we need it? Matt wants to bring me to where his band is playing tonight."

Sam and Freddie looked at each other and shrugged. They had been doing it long enough that getting by on one rehearsal shouldn't be an issue. Freddie pulled out the sandwich bag of bacon he had brought and handed it to Sam, who immediately pulled a piece out and began to eat.

Carly looked at him. "What's with the bacon, Freddie?"

"Made too much this morning. Didn't want it to go to waste."

"All bacon comes here," Sam said, gesturing to herself. She smiled at Freddie, and he returned it.

"Anyway, it's cool. I was going to see if we could cut it a little early, anyway," Freddie said. "I have to go to my aunt's house and watch cousin Stephanie tonight. My aunt has a cooking class, and her babysitter canceled on her, so my mom volunteered me."

"Aw, poor Frednub. Better load up on pies," Sam said.

"I'll have you know Stephanie thinks I'm very funny now."

"No pies?" Sam asked.

"No."

"Freddie?"

He sighed. "Pratfalls." Carly and Sam laughed.

He had finished putting Stephanie to bed that night when Sam called him. It had taken him a while to get Stephanie to lay down. She wanted him to read to her, and he read three different books, but she kept saying she wanted more. Finally, Freddie retold Goldilocks and the Three Bears with the idea of Sam being Goldilocks. The story ended with her in her new house with three bear-skin rugs, and Stephanie fell asleep.

"Hey, Sam, what's up?" he whispered, closing Stephanie's door. He didn't need her to wake up and start the whole process all over.''

"Nothing, just bored, and nothing perks me up more than harassing you." Freddie nodded, although she couldn't see him.

"What are we going with tonight?" he asked.

"I don't know. I'm looking for something new. I feel like I've gotten into a rut when it comes to humiliating you."

"Still feels like you're doing okay to me," he said, smiling.

"Well, sure, to an amateur, it seems like I'm doing fine, but when you're in the pro ranks like I am, you just have to keep fresh."

"So new nicknames?"

"I don't know. I've already filled up two notebooks with names."

"You keep notebooks?"

"The true artiste must keep a record of her masterpieces."

"Interesting to know how genius works."

"You're welcome."

There was a moment of silence. "So, what are you planning?" he asked.

"I was wondering if you could help me with it."

"You want me to tell you the best way to harass me?"

"I'd appreciate it."

"You could be nice to me."

"Now, see, that's why you always be second best, Freddie. You didn't even put any effort into that."

"Now, wait a second, Sam." He sat down on the couch. "Picture it. You be nice to me. I'm not used to that, so I start freaking out. 'She has to be planning something', I think. Soon every time I see you I flinch because I'm just waiting for you to strike. But the thing is, you never do, and I just start to get really paranoid. Might even end up being put in an insane asylum."

"That does sound like fun. Okay, thanks, Freddie. I'll save that one. You'll forget you told me, and in a few years, I'll hit you with it. I still need something for now, though."

"I'm sure you'll think of something, Sam."

"I always do," she said. "Later, nub." She hung up.

The next day, he walked up to Sam and Carly talking in the hallway again. Carly looked slightly out of sorts.

"What's up?" Freddie asked.

"You tell him," Sam said, chuckling.

"No," Carly said, and crossed her arms.

"Then I'll tell him," Sam said.

"Fine," Carly spat. "I went to see Matt's band last night. And it turns out...that...they are a cover band."

"That's not that bad," Freddie said. "I've seen some pretty good cover bands."

"Tell him who?" Sam said, laughing even harder.

Carly sighed. "Michael Bolton."

Freddie's eyes went wide. He looked at Sam, who was pretty much on the floor, she was laughing so hard. "Michael Bolton?" Freddie asked. Carly shook her head. Suddenly, laughter bubbled out of Freddie, and he fell down next to Sam, both of them laughing and pointing at Carly in a way she felt was completely unsympathetic to their friend.

"Guys!" she said, and stamped her feet.

"Sorry. I'm so, so sorry," Freddie said, trying to get his laughter under control. He stood up and held a hand to Sam, and pulled her up. "So I guess he's getting Griffined."

"Getting what?" Carly asked.

"Griffened," Sam said. "You know, when you have that boyfriend you think is perfect for you, but then he has this one thing that's just so _uncool_ that you end up breaking up with him."

"You guys have a name for it?" Carly asked, unbelieving.

"Yeah, I thought you knew," Freddie said. He finally had his laughter under control. _Michael Bolton_, he thought, and chortled. Sam looked at him and nodded, laughing herself.

"I'm not breaking up with him," Carly said.

"Not yet," Sam told Freddie.

"I'm right here," Carly said.

"Sorry, Carly," Sam and Freddie said together. Sam pushed Freddie gently on the arm, and he did the same to her.

"Anyway, Sam, did you want to stay over tonight after _ICarly_?"

"Uh, no thanks. I know Carly pre-break-up. Too many girly movies. Besides my mom's staying the weekend in Vegas with her boyfriend, and I'm going to enjoy some alone time."

"Sam, your mom's been away plenty, and you almost always stay with me. I promise I won't make you watch too many movies."

"Sorry, Carls. No can do. Since me and my mom started therapy, she's been 'there' more, so I am taking advantage of actually having a break from her."

Carly shrugged. It seemed strange to her. Sam always spent the night if she could. She looked at Freddie to see if he could help her, but he wasn't even looking at them anymore; he was staring down the hall.

"Are we boring you, Freddie?" Carly asked, snappishly.

"What? No." He turned around. "I was thinking of songs. Do you think I should request Matt sing 'When a Man Loves a Woman' or 'How Am I Supposed to Live Without You'?"

"Grrr. You guys suck," Carly said and walked.

"Did I say something?" Freddie asked Sam, who was on the floor again.

Half a day later, Freddie stood on her porch and rang the doorbell.

"What are you doing here, Freddie? I thought your mom worked tonight." Her face was unreadable, often a dangerous sign, but Freddie wasn't nervous. He noted, but did not comment on, the fact that she was wearing long Girly Cow pajama bottoms in addition to a tank top. She wore no socks, but he also did not comment on her Elvish feet.

"She is. I drove her in, because I had to go to the library after the show. School stuff. I'm picking her up in the morning."

"I thought I said I was looking forward to some alone time tonight, Fredward."

"Did you? I must have missed that." He pushed on the door lightly, knowing that if she wanted to, she could easily prevent him from coming in. The door swung open, as she stepped aside.

"You're annoying, Fredward."

"You've said. Can't think of any nicknames yet, or you just like the sound of my name on your lips?"

"Well, aren't you bold?"

"Actually, I think you prefer something else on your lips," he said, and in one motion, he bent down and put his arms around her thighs, picking her up. She was unbelievably light. Her legs circled around his waist, and before he could make the first move, she kissed him.

"Uh, well, tag, you're it," he said, when she released his lips. He started to move toward the couch with her still on him.

"Not there. My bedroom."

"But the couch-"

"My mom and her boyfriend have-"

"Your bedroom it is." It took them about ten minutes to get to her bedroom, because they continued to kiss the entire time. At one point, he rested her against the hallway wall and kissed her neck. Finally, they were at her door, and she reached behind her and pushed the door open, still kissing him. He pushed through piles of clothes to get to her bed.

"You're a slob," he said, between kisses.

"Sexy slob," she said, holding his face and sucking on his upper lip.

"Sexy slob," he agreed. He turned and sat on the bed with her now on his lap, her legs wrapped around him. He could feel the closeness of their groins, and he could feel his penis throb. Instead of retreating from it, Sam seemed to push onto his erection.

Freddie put his hands on the bottom of her tank top and started to pull it up. She put her hands over his and stopped him. He looked at her, saying nothing. He brought one of his hands up and lightly stroked her cheek with his thumb, and she leaned into it, but never took her eyes off him.

"You know you can trust me, Sam," he said.

She nodded and and leaned down and took his earlobe into his mouth, sucking on it. She grabbed the bottom of her shirt and began to pull it up, but this time he stopped her.

"No, it's not your turn, Sam." She let her hands fall. He could hear her slow breaths. He pulled her shirt up slowly, letting his fingers trace the bare skin of her sides. She raised her arms complacently, and he pulled the shirt over her head. He let it fall to the floor. He looked at her. She crossed her arms over her breasts, and he could see the blush on her face. He gently removed her arms, and she let them fall by her side.

"You're beautiful, Sam."

She scoffed, although he knew she was pleased. "You're just saying that because you get to see boobs."

"There is that," he said. "But you're still beautiful." He took his hand and traced the line of her neck and let it caress down to the swell of her breast. His hand was light, barely grazing her skin. Her nipple responded as he grazed it. Her areolas were a little larger than a half-dollar and light brown. He lowered his mouth to her breast and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking and teasing it gently with his tongue. Sam put her arms around his head, her fingernails pushing tiny half-moons on the flesh of his neck. Freddie continued to explore with his fingers, letting them trail along the small of her back, then up to her shoulder blades.

"Shirt," she whispered, and he held his hands up, allowing her to pull his shirt over his head. He put his mouth on her other breast, and lightly nipped. She pulled her breath in.

"Gentle," she said. He nodded and proceeded to suck softly, softly caressing her other breast. He eased her to the side, so that she lay along the length of the bed. He moved on top of her so that he was between her thighs, her legs wrapped around his waist. He moved up and kissed her neck, still stroking the silky softness of her breast. He could feel her fingernails along the length of his back, and he arched, and she pushed up to meet the thrust of his groin. Freddie licked and sucked at her neck, and their lower bodies found a rhythm he found enticing and frustrating.

Sam put her hand on the back of his neck and guided him to her breast. He cupped his hand around the aerola, so that her nipple puffed up a little. He ran his tongue around her nipple, and then criss-crossed it with two quick flicks. Sam moaned and pushed him down. He took her nipple, her areola, as much of her breast in that he could, sucking at it. Sam rolled her hips against him, and he could feel the pressure of her mound on his cock, only piece of clothing between them. The image of removing their bottoms and pushing inside the heat of her flashed through his head, and he sucked her breast harder, then released it to encircle her nipple with his tongue.

"Freddie...we've got to stop," Sam said.

"Are you okay, Sam?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm just not ready for...that yet. Okay?" Again, this was a side of Sam he wasn't used to. She was apologetic and seemed nervous.

"Of course it's okay, Sam." He reached up and brushed hair from her face, caressing her cheek.

"I mean," she said, her voice a faint echo of the usual toughness he knew from the Puckett girl," if we raced to the end, what would be left of the game?" He didn't answer. He started to get up. "Don't leave."

"What?"

"Well, you bothered me on my night off. The least you could do is let me have a pillow for a while," she said. He laughed. He scooted to the side of the bed, and she nestled against him, her back to his front. Her head was on his arm, and he put his arm over her, twirling little circles on her stomach.

"Freddie?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?"

"Sam, you're the most beautiful girl I know with the sexiest Girly Cow pajamas I've ever seen." She laughed, and then bumped her ass against his crotch.

"Cut that out, Sam."

"Cut what out, Freddie?" she asked, with false innocence in her voice. She slowly rubbed against him, giving her hips a tiny twist.

"I'm warning you, Puckett."

"What are you going to do, Benson? Hey!" She jumped. She turned her head. "You goosed me!"

He shrugged and grinned. "I warned you."

"Shut up, pillow," she growled and rested her head on his arm again. She didn't sound mad. And while her ass was still against his crotch, she stopped moving it. He let his fingers slide along the length of her arm, and he felt her shiver.

"Sorry," he said.

"Don't stop," she said. So he continued, and as he did he looked at her, the paleness of her skin, the muscle along the line of her neck, her blond curls that cascaded down her back. He moved his hand from her arm and ran it through her hair.

Soon, he heard a change in her breathing pattern that indicated sleep. He started to pull his arm from under her. She stopped him with her hand.

"Don't go," she whispered, sleep in her voice. He looked at her. She didn't appear to be awake. He took his arm from around her waist and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. Using the one hand, he set three alarms on it, about three minutes apart. He had to pick his mother up from work in the morning, and he didn't need to answer any questions if he was late. He put the phone down next to his head. He put his arm back around her waist, kissed her lightly on the shoulder, and rested his head next to hers.

He was lucky that he had put the phone near his head, as the buzzing woke him up. He had forgotten he had the phone on vibrate, so when the alarm went off, there was no noise, just the buzzing. He woke out of his haze. During the night Sam had nestled closer to him, so that nearly every part of the back of her was touching him, the back of her thighs against his thighs, her back to his stomach. At some point during the night his hand had gone to her breast and cupped it gently. Reluctantly, he took his arm away. He extracted his arm from under Sam.

"Don' go," her slurred, sleepy voice intoned.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I have to pick up my mom."

"Mith you, Reddie."

He smiled at her. "I'll miss you, too, Sam." He got off the bed and found his shirt, putting it back on. He would have to stop by his apartment before he picked his mom up and change his shirt. He could tell her he just threw on last night's clothes, but he had been trained to put them immediately in the laundry hamper.

He took a sheet scrunched up near the bottom of the bed and pulled it lightly over Sam. he bent down and kissed her on the cheek.

"Sleep well, Princess."

**A/N: A few people have commented that they didn't believe that Sam's tag really upped the ante. I understand that, as a guy shirtless generally has less impact than shirtless girl, but I wanted to let some things move slowly. While it may not be a huge jump forward, it still is a jump, and don't worry: Sam plays the game!**

**Thank you for reviews: december1992, Geekquality, Tbayleyt, kimmyAllen, Moviepal, MissSeddie, StandardNostalgia, TheRockAngel, KarmaLord, Vetiver, adore202, Kimbrely Ella Rose, axel100, twelvex, S. Benson, pos, Cheruth, Daniyell37, alaskan-anime-girlie21, maxiefae, eleanorr1gby, UnderxGravity, myjumpingsocks, mamaluvsangst, cherry4812, Princess Starlight, clarksonfan, xXSeddieXx, and afanoffanfic.**

**Tbayleyt: It wouldn't hurt to assume that. **

**StandardNostalgia: Well, we see something happening with Matt in this chapter. Matt, if people didn't know, is a recent transfer from a small town called Plot Device. As of now, I have no plans to have him appear in the story, but, as those who have read my stuff before know, just because I don't plan something doesn't mean it won't happen.**

**axel100: I try not to write and post so quickly, but I never actually accomplish it. I know if I did, the writing would be a little tighter (right now I write the chapter before I go to bed, and then edit and post it after I get up in the morning). And I would probably get more reviews, because I've seen some stories with less chapters and words than mine have a bunch of reviews because the story has been dragged out for months. But as I've written before, I'm kind of a chapter slut-I just can't help giving it away. And, I have to say, the reviews I've been getting for this have been pretty awesome already.**

**twelvex: I don't know if Spencer will be setting anything else on fire. I kind of had him go on a fire rampage last story, and I don't want to pigeonhole the poor guy.**

**Cheruth: Thanks for your comments. I usually get comments about how well I write Freddie, but to get that comment about Sam really makes me stoked. Thanks. Yes, it wouldn't make a lot of sense (not that it hasn't stopped some people) to have two virgins completely master the nuances of sex. Sex can be sexy, true, but it can also be silly, funny, awkward, etc., and we'll probably see a little bit of all of those at some point. Well, as for rules, we've seen Sam has not had a problem changing rules when it suited her.**

**afanoffanfic: I don't know. I think that although he thinks of Sam as a sister, she isn't his sister. And she's obviously not Carly. But I think you just want me to write about Spencer talking about sex to Sam (I've seen your fiction! Ha).**

**Princess Starlight: I appreciate anybody who review just once, and those who review every chapter. I like those who favorite my story and follow it, too, but I would never, ever say no to a review.**


	7. Chapter 7: Hold

Chapter 7: Hold

**Disclaimer: Once upon a time, in a land far away, just past the McDonald's on Rogers...no, Avenue, not Street...anyway, just past that, in that abandoned falafel stand...no, the food with chickpeas...you're thinking of a loofah. Oh, never mind, Dan owns **_**iCarly**_**.**

It had been two weeks since Freddie had been over to Sam's house, and Freddie was frustrated. He and Sam had tagged during the period, but upping the ante during each tag was barely incremental. He knew why; he had been just as much a part of it as Sam was. They both knew the next real step involved going under the pants or boxer shorts, and neither of them was quite brave enough to make that step.

One night a few years before when he had been unable to sleep Freddie had watched a movie on TV about Michelangelo. It was called _The Agony and the Ecstasy_. That was how Freddie felt. His hormones were pinging all over the place, and he felt his penis was controlled by a sadistic puppet master, who would pull it up throughout the day, often at the most inappropriate times. Freddie, who had long been a boxer man, switched to briefs, because it was easier to tuck up in them, so that if he did get an erection people would not notice. He also wore his shirts untucked. He was envious of girls. What happened when they got sexually excited? Did their nipples just get hard? All they had to do was say they got a cold chill, and then slap the guy who had looked at their breasts and pointed it out.

But Freddie was also extremely happy, despite cries of protests coming from his groin. He was spending time with Sam, not only during their game, but also overall. Both of them ensured they asked Carly if she wanted to be involved in everything, but either she was with Matt, although, as they predicted, the heat of that relationship had dissipated somewhat, or they were doing something she had no interest in.

Two days after he was at her house, Sam told Freddie he was going to take her to a paintball field. He remembered when they had their Assassin game, in which she had quickly eliminated him, and he had insisted that for every game in which they were on opposite sides, they would have be on a team together the next game. She had agreed, which Freddie was thankful for. After they were done, Freddie was sore from all the times Sam had hit him. No other person had shot him that night, just Sam. Whatever team Sam was on won every time.

"What's wrong, Freddie?" she asked. He had put the key in the ignition and felt the twinge in his arm. He windmilled his arm and winced.

"You shot me in the shoulder, Sam. Those chest guards suck."

"Geez, sorry, it wasn't like I was aiming at you."

"Yes, you were, Sam. You always aim at me." He caught her smile. "See, you did it on purpose."

"I had to mark you."

"Wasn't there something else you could do?"

"Well, I could tattoo 'Property of Sam' on you," she said.

"Thanks, I've had enough of your tattoos."

"You big baby. Let me see."

He pulled the collar of his shirt down, but it didn't reach down far enough.

"Take your shirt off, Freddie."

"Sam, we're in the middle of a parking lot."

"And everybody's pretty much gone, and it's dark. Don't be a wuss."

He rolled his eyes, and pulled his shirt up. Sam whistled.

"Wow, I really did tag you," she said. The bruise was already starting to blossom. She reached out and touched it, making him wince. "Sorry, nub."

"Yeah, that helps," he said.

"Oh, just let me kiss and make it better," she said, and she leaned over and placed a soft, gentle kiss on his bruise. Then she looked up with a mischievous grin.

"Sam."

She reached past him and flipped the control on his seat, causing him to fall back. She crawled on top of him and bent down, her lips lightly brushing his.

"Tag, you're it."

"Sam." She shook her head. He knew he could do nothing. Doing this in a public place, even if it was dark and mostly abandoned, certainly fell within the rules, as far as upping the ante went. She crooked her eye at him, and he nodded. She smiled, and took his hands and put them on her breasts. He squeezed and then reached down and pulled her shirt over her head. If he had to be shirtless, then so did she. After a moment's struggle, he unlatched her bra and let it fall to the side.

Sam nibbled at his chest, making sure when she came to his bruise she did no more than lightly brush it with her lips. Since it was her turn and she controlled it, Freddie took the time to explore her breasts, rubbing her nipples with the tips of his fingers. He liked the way they seemed to harden immediately when he did that and the way she moaned.

She kissed the entirety of his face, his lips, his cheeks, his eyelids, and the entire time, he could feel her slow, maddening grind against his crotch.

He thought perhaps she might take it a step further, when she sat up in his lap for a second and glanced around. Then she looked again. "Freddie?"

"What?"

"Was that tree there before?"

He scooted up, and saw that the car was about a foot from a tree. They had not been near a tree before. He looked to the gear shift and saw that at some point one or both of them had knocked it into neutral.

Freddie pointed, and Sam laughed, which made Freddie laugh, too. Soon, Sam was laughing so hard that she flung her arms around his neck and her body was hitching from her laughter. Her boobs bounced against his stomach, and he wanted to take advantage of it, but he could not stop laughing himself.

Sam looked at him. The moment was over, they both knew. For all they knew, somebody had been watching the vehicle slowly drifting across the parking lot. Freddie nodded at her and handed her bra and shirt. She put them on, and gave him his shirt. Before he put it on, she gave his bruise another light kiss.

Three days later Freddie had surprised Sam on the roof of the school. He had her shirt off and had been squeezing her ass, when they heard the door open. They both shut up and were as still as they could be. They heard the wheeze of the janitor, Mr. Freslen, and then they heard him let out a loud, juicy fart. Sam pressed her face against Freddie's chest, suppressing her laughter. They stood there for ten minutes, both laughing silently the entire time before Mr. Freslen finished whatever he was doing and left. Although they were hidden, he never even looked over to where they were. Freddie only thought later about the fact that Sam could have just made a noise alerting the janitor, and she would have won the game.

They had other encounters where they both were willing to explore below the belt as long as it wasn't near the groin. At one point, during Freddie's next tag, he had Sam on top of him and was kissing her neck and her breasts, and he had her shorts pulled down in the back and he squeezed her buttocks.

Was there anything they could do to progress the game without having to touch genitalia? Freddie didn't think so, and he wasn't necessarily surprised that after his tag when he had her shorts pulled down, that she had not made an effort to make her next move. Not surprised, but disappointed. And a little relieved. Because when she did, that would mean his tag was next, and he really had no idea what he was supposed to do.

That their game of tag was not to be spoken about during this time was another thing they had silently agreed upon. Luckily for Sam and Freddie, although perhaps not so much for their friend, Carly had finally broken up with Matt, which meant that Sam had to be by her side as she went through her stages of grief.

_Meet me in the hall_, Freddie texted Sam after Carly's second day post-breakup. The second day was the worst day, Freddie knew, and he was once again glad he was male, so he didn't have to put up with what Sam did. Of course, being male around Carly was also not great, because during times like that Carly seemed to believe it was an entire gender's fault. Which is why he texted Sam instead of going into the apartment.

Sam came out. "What is it, Freddie? I'm missing..." She turned to the closed door. "Never mind, do you want to talk about calculus or something?"

"That bad, huh?"

"We've already watched _The Notebook_ and _Titanic _three times each. She got mad at me because I yelled at the screen that Rose was gonna drop him like a brick."

Freddie chuckled sympathetically.

"What did you want, Freddie?"

"I figured you were suffering, so I got you something to help." He held out the items in his hands. Her eyes went immediately to the bag.

"Barbecue?"

"Five kinds of meat. I figured you probably went through your fill of ice cream."

"Awesome! What's this?" she asked, holding up the other item, which was a disc.

"MMA's Deadliest Knockouts Volume 10," he said. Her eyes sparkled. "I figured you needed something to rinse out the _Titanic_."

"Thanks, Freddie," she said, and she came forward and hugged him. They stood like that for about a minute, and then Sam slowly pulled away, still smiling, but not looking at him.

"No problem, Sam. Good luck." She nodded, and they went into their separate apartments.

He couldn't sleep that night, so he went out on the fire escape. The reason he couldn't sleep was because of Sam, and not the normal reason Sam wouldn't let him sleep. As much as the sexual thoughts of Sam filled his mind, they were for the moment overshadowed by his thoughts about what would happen when the game ended. He didn't want it to end. He wanted to be with Sam, not just sexually, but as somebody she wanted, a boyfriend, a soulmate, or whatever other sappy shit was in the movies Carly was making Sam watch. And though he knew, if questioned directly, she would deny that such a thought had ever crossed her mind, he thought she felt the same way.

Although she had been standing by him for five minutes, he was so deep in thought he didn't notice until she put her hand on his crotch. He jumped.

"Sam!"

"Shut up, Freddie." He stroked him, and his dick hardened immediately. He looked at her face and tried to will it to shrink, but he had no control over it.

"Sam, you don't have to do this."

"I said to shut up. And tag, you're it." She squeezed him, released, squeezed again. He moaned despite himself.

"Sam...stop." Not knowing why, he took her hand off him.

She nodded. "Still counts." And she left.

Freddie sat there, confused. What had happened? Sam was angry, he understood that, but why? What did he do?

He stayed on the fire escape for two more hours, mulling it in his head. He thought maybe he understood; he had known Sam long enough to understand sometimes why she did something, although he had never been in a situation like this with her. The best thing to do, damn the consequences, was to confront her directly.

The next day at school, he hid out of view until he saw Carly leave Sam at her locker. He grabbed her by the hand and had her halfway down the hall before she seemed cognizant of it. She started to pull away, but he had already had her in the janitor's closet by then.

"What the hell, Freddie? Just couldn't wait, could you?"

"Sam, we need to talk."

"You don't want to talk." She took his hand and put it on her breast. "Or do you want this?" She put his hand between her thighs and held it there.

He pulled away. "I quit."

"What?"

"You heard me, Sam. I quit. You win. I'm not doing this anymore." He turned away.

"Freddie?"

"Look, Sam, I know you're afraid-"

"I'm not afraid of anything!"

"Yes, you are, Sam. You're afraid of the next step for us. I am, too. But I'm not going to lose you as a friend because of it. I'm sorry I even started this." He grasped the door handle.

"Freddie, please." He stopped. When was the last time Sam had used "please" with him? Could he count the number of times on his hands? He turned around. "I'm sorry." She wasn't looking at him; her head was lowered.

"What?"

"I said I'm sorry." She raised her head, and he saw a solitary tear on her cheek. More surprising than Sam saying "please" was Sam crying. Immediately, Freddie forgot about storming out and moved to her. He wiped the tear from her cheek.

"Sam, don't cry."

"I'm not crying," she said, blinking, as another tear trailed after the first. He wiped it away, too. "I'm sorry. I know I'm being a bitch."

"Of course you're not."

"Never a good liar, Freddie." She smirked. "You're right, okay? I got scared."

"It's okay, Sam. We don't have to do this."

"I didn't want to stop! I just...Freddie, can you turn around? I can't talk to you when you're looking at me." He stared at her. "Please." He turned around. She took a few deep breaths. "I was just thinking about it, and started thinking 'soon, we're gonna do this and then soon we'll do that', and just got scared, all right?"

"Sam." He held his hand back, and she took it in her hands. "I mean it. You don't have to do this."

"I want to do it, Freddie. And I want it to be you. I trust you. More than any other guy I've known. But...it's like-"

"You're not in control?" he asked.

"Yes! And I've always felt like I had to be the one in control, and I can't stand not being that way. And then we start this game..."

"What do you want to do, Sam?"

"I still want to play. But maybe we don't worry about a time limit on it? So if we go a few days without anything happening, or a week, then maybe that would still be okay? We don't have to do it all right away?" She sounded so hesitant, that Freddie finally turned around. He grasped both her hands in his.

"Sam, what's in this for you? This isn't just 'Mama plays to win' anymore. Believe me, I'd be more than happy to get rid of my virginity, but I don't want to hurt you. What's in it for you?"

"You'll stay play?"

"Yes, Sam, but-"

"Good, we're still playing. Just no time limits."

Freddie paused. He wanted to push, but he knew Sam too well. She had already exposed so much of herself, that to push for more would anger her. "Okay."

She went to the door. "Thank you, Freddie," she whispered and left.

For the next week they somewhat returned to the way they were before the game started. _Not really_, Freddie thought. It was actually like it was about two weeks after the games started. While they weren't making out, they were still hanging out together, although Carly was spending more time with them, now that she was over Matt.

"Freddie, wake up." He looked up to see Sam staring at him.

"What's going on?"

She held up water balloons. "Lewbert's getting off work."

That's how they ended up tossing water balloons onto Lewbert from the fifth floor fire escape at an hour to midnight. Sam wanted to do it from the roof, but Freddie was being a pain about the added acceleration and the possible damage it might cause. Sam said that was stupid, but Freddie wasn't taking any chances after they had already blown Lewbert up before.

Sam spent every day that week at Carly's, and Freddie either always found a reason to be over there, or Sam talked him into doing something.

Another unspoken agreement between them, or more accurately one that Sam deemed to be so and Freddie didn't protest, was that Sam's tag was the next one. He didn't know if Sam was approaching it as if she was counting the two encounters they had, despite the fact that she had forced him into his tag, or if she was acting as if they did not count. That was something he was unable to tell, and he was unwilling to ask.

But Sam did not retreat from him. In fact, he noted that she touched him more in front of other people than she did even when they were tagging. It was nothing as dramatic as Carly, who would lean against a boy or hug him from behind, or as bad as some of the other girls at school, who would practically dry-hump their boyfriends in the hall. Not that Freddie was judgmental about it-to be so would be hypocritical, he thought-but they could at least save it for times when they were alone.

Sam would just put her hand on his arm sometimes when she was talking. If they were sitting on the couch together, she would sit close to him, their legs touching, or, if she was feeling particularly tired, she would lay back on the couch and put her legs on tops of Freddie's. She did this once, and he looked up to see Spencer watching them. He looked down and saw that he had been stroking her leg without being really aware of it. She hadn't said anything about it. He looked away from Spencer and stopped.

It was two weeks later that she came up to Freddie in the hallway. He hadn't expected her; his mind was occupied elsewhere.

"Hey, Freddie."

He moved his locker door. "Oh, hey, Michelle. What's happening?" Michelle Kliner was in his computer programming class. She had also been in the audiovisual club, but some of the guys there creeped her out so much she left the club.

"Not much. I really wanted to thank you for your help with my program. I don't know what I would have done without you."

Freddie laughed. "Whatever. Your program was brilliant. I just made some small cosmetic changes."

She smiled. "Well, thank you, anyway."

"Not a problem." A silence fell between them, which Freddie didn't know how to fill. He had thought the thank-you had been the purpose of the conversation, but that was done, and yet she was still there. He wasn't comfortable with silence. Michelle smiled at him again. Michelle was a slim girl with long brunette hair that she often kept in a ponytail, although today it was loose. She had a light spray of freckles on her nose.

"Freddie, you like _Galaxy Wars_, don't you?"

Freddie laughed. "I guess you could say that. My best friends start to gag every time I start talking about it."

"Why? It's awesome, isn't it?" She laughed excitedly, and Freddie saw the flash of her teeth. She had a very pretty smile. She was a pretty girl; that was one of the reasons she had to quit AV. All the geeks, except for Freddie, kept asking her out. It was different a few months before, when she was dating one of the football players, but since she broke up with him, she was apparently free game.

"Yeah, it is. Why do you ask?"

She leaned in and whispered, "do you know the convention coming in next week, with the special VIP package, where you get to meet Nug-Nug?"

"Yeah," he said, enthused. "But that thing's been sold out for a month."

"Sort of," she said. She pulled out a pair of tickets from her purse. "Do you want to go?"

"Do you mean like a date?" Freddie asked.

"What's going on there?" Sam asked Carly, who was watching Freddie and Michelle from down the hall.

"I think she might be asking him out," Carly said, happily.

"What? Why would she do that?"

"Because she has this, like, big crush on him. I heard her talking with one of her friends about it. Wouldn't that be awesome? Freddie hasn't really dated anybody since, well, me."

"You two didn't date, Carls," Sam said, staring intently at the two down the hall.

"Yeah, I guess not. Still, it would be good. I mean, they have like so much in common. They're perfect for each other." Sam and Carly watched as Michelle hugged Freddie, and then the both of them walked away in different directions.

"It looks good," Carly said cheerily. "Isn't that great?"

"Yeah, great," Sam said.

**A/N: Heh. Before the torches and pitchforks come out, just give me at least one more chapter, folks, and then if you want, burn away.**

**Thanks for reviews from: AlexaJohn185, lovesux93, Darsnider, TheRockAngel, S. Benson, sammiilizzie, kimmyAllen, adore202, KarmaLord, wazzabinho, StandardNostalgia, Vetiver, Daniyell37, Princess Starlight, axel100, Moviepal, Kechara7881, maxiefae, clarksonfan, popcorn1001, alaska-anime-girlie21, , xXSeddieXx, isinktohearts, and Cheruth.**

**adore202: Right now, I think 15 chapters, so eight more.**

**axel100: I'm sorry that I'm not really going to comment on Sam's mindset. I've made a deliberate choice to not let the audience see her thoughts, unlike how I've done with other characters. I can only say that by the end, you should probably know what Sam was thinking throughout (that she was hungry...well, maybe other stuff, too). As for the sexual rebel comment, I will just say I see the Sam character as pretty much equal parts bravado and insecurity, and that if she were in a "relationship" (or anything resembling one) with any other person, the events in this story would not have been in any way possible. We have to remember that Freddie has known Sam for a long time, and pretty much that entire time she has not put on a mask for him, as she did for other boys. **

**maxiefae: Yeah, I do!**

**Cheruth: I don't know if Carly is figuring out things just yet. And for those who think she should, just remember how she was surprised at both of Sam and Freddie's kisses (although, of course, in this story, that second one never happened).**


	8. Chapter 8: Making Her Move

Chapter 8: Making Her Move

**Disclaimer: Q: Have you now or have you ever owned **_**iCarly**_**? A: I don't see how that is pertinent to the matter at hand. Q: Sir, please answer the question. A: This isn't really- Q: Sir, answer the question. A: No, okay. I don't own it. Have you no sense of decency left. At long last, have you no sense of decency left.**

_**Note: Hey, did I mention this was rated 'M'? I did? Cool.**_

_**Note, the second: I know I usually post these in the morning, but I will be occupied tomorrow. Additionally, I have gotten so many kind requests for a faster update (along with some thinly-veiled threats, I believe), that I thought I would post it a little early. Chances are the next chapter will be back to the morning on Monday.**_

"What's wrong with boys?"

Spencer looked up from the sculpture on which he was working. His sister came into the apartment and sat down on the couch in a huff.

"Seriously, is there a special rule that you all like have to be dropped on your heads as children or something?"

Spencer stood up and sat down next to Carly. "I'm gonna guess this has something to do with boys," he said.

She gave him a look. "Har har. No, not boys, just Freddie."

"Ouch."

"You know what I mean. A girl asked him out today, a very, and I say this only observationally, hot girl, and he turned her down. Can you believe that?"

_Yes_, Spencer thought, but he didn't say. "Did he say why?"

"He 'didn't really want to get into it', he said." Spencer wondered if it irritated Freddie as much as it did him when she used that voice. "God, Spencer, you don't think he might still have a crush on me, do you? I thought he had gotten over that, but if he's not accepting this date..."

"Nah, he doesn't."

"Why wouldn't he have a crush on me? I'm adorable."

"Of course you are." _Girls really confuse me_, he thought. "You don't want Freddie to have a crush on you, do you?"

"Nooo. But I don't need the idea that he might to just be dismissed out of hand, like there was no possibility that a boy would have a crush on me."

"But-"

"That's not the point!" The door opened and Sam came in. Spencer noticed she swept the room quickly with her eyes. "Thank goodness you're here, Sam. Spencer's too much of a boy to get it."

"Get what?" Sam asked.

"Well, one, that I'm adorable and it's not surprising if boys have crushes on me." Sam waved in agreement, as if she understood anything Carly was saying. "And that Freddie is a complete idiot."

"Well, I've always thought that, but you argued against me. What makes you say it now?" she asked.

"Do you know that Michelle _did_ ask him out, and he said no?"

Spencer watched Sam's face, and for the briefest of moments he thought he had seen her lip almost twitch into a smile, but then it was gone. Carly didn't notice, probably still musing over Spencer questioning her adorability factor. "Did he? Why?"

"He wouldn't tell me. You should help me make him tell."

"No way. The less I'm involved in the nub's 'love life' the better." She did the quote gesture with 'love life', and Spencer laughed. She looked at him, and he tried to make his face a serene as possible. He wasn't sure if it worked, but Sam looked at him less as if he knew something and more as if he were going to have some type of seizure. "Sounds to me like the boy knew it was a prank or that major dumpage was coming his way. Either way, who cares?"

"Sam, he's our friend."

"Eh." Sam shrugged. "Besides, isn't it his business? Why do you need to get involved?"

"Because if I didn't get involved in you guys' business, the two of you would never find love! Both of you are hopeless. I should just get the two of you together, so the rest of Seattle doesn't have to suffer. Grr. I'm taking a shower." She stomped upstairs. Spencer saw that Sam appeared deep in thought.

"I guess I'll go then," Sam said. She headed toward the door.

"Hey, Sam."

"Hmm."

"Freddie's at fencing. He won't be home for an hour."

"Oh. I mean, why would I care?"

"Didn't say you did. I just thought you might have been going over there to do Carly's dirty work for her. I know how hard it is to resist her."

"Hmmm."

"You want me to make you a BLT, Sam?"

"No." She sat down on the couch. "Make me three."

Carly was out of the shower by the time Freddie came over. Spencer had thought about texting him to let him know to lie low, but he also knew the longer he put Carly off, the more insistent she would be.

"Fredward Benson," she said, as soon as he came in. Spencer heard Freddie mutter "oh, crap". Sam looked up from the couch, but said nothing.

"What's up, Carly?"

"Don't 'what's up' me? Why aren't you going out with Michelle?"

"Didn't want to," he said.

"Didn't want to? Didn't want to? Freddie, she's perfect for you. She actually is into all those nerdy things you do. She's beautiful. She likes you."

"Carly, I already talked to her. She understood."

"Well, I don't."

"I'm sorry, Carly, but you don't need to work on my love life. Work on your own. Whenever I meet the right person, it will happen."

"What if you never meet her?"

"What if I already have?"

Carly paused. "Freddie, you don't-"

He looked at her. "Jeez, Carly, I didn't mean you. I didn't mean anything. I'm just saying, don't try to force it." He got up and walked out the door.

"I'll have you know I've been told I'm adorable," she yelled.

"Um-" Spencer said.

"I'm going to take a shower," Carly said.

"But you just did," Spencer said.

"Shower!" She went upstairs.

"Hey, Sam." She looked at him. "Maybe you should go see if Freddie is okay."

"Seems fine to me," she said.

"Sam."

"Fine. The things I do for you people." She left the apartment. Spencer smiled. Then he thought about next month's water bill. His smile faded.

"Hey, nub, what's going on?" They were on the fire escape. It seemed to Freddie so much of their lives recently had been spent there. She stood at the window, while he was sitting on one of the stairs.

"Nothing."

"So I hear you can't even score when girls throw themselves at you."

"Are you here to torture me, Sam, or be my friend?"

"Friend. Sorry." She sat down one stair below him. "I can't help my mouth sometimes."

"I know."

"So why aren't you going out with Michelle?"

"Not my type, I guess."

She turned to look at him. "She's exactly your type, Benson! She's like this female you who happens to be trapped in a cheerleader's body."

"Do you want me to go out with her, Sam?"

"I don't care. I just think it's strange you said no."

"She is a lot like me, but I don't really want that. It'd be weird, like dating myself. I think I would prefer to find somebody who likes some of the same things I do, but is different enough to make life interesting."

"Well, good luck finding her," Sam said. Freddie smiled wanly behind her. "So what did you tell her?"

"I told her I would love to go with her, but only as a friend. I said it was complicated, but that I was kind of involved with somebody."

Sam's head shot up, and she looked back at him. "What? Who?" He stared at her like she might possibly be the stupidest person alive. "Oh. Well, we're not, you know, really involved."

"So you think I should date Michelle, and she should be okay with it if I just randomly make out with my best friend."

"Oh." They sat in silence. "I guess we could cancel the game if a real relationship would occur."

"I told you she's not my type. But you can quit if you want."

"I'm not quitting!" More silence. "So I guess we need to hold off on the possibility of other relationships while we play our game."

"Game could last a long while, Sam."

"I don't have plans. You, Benson?"

"I'm in for the long haul."

"'Kay. I guess I should go rescue Carly before she turns into a prune. Later, Freddie."

"Night, Sam."

It seemed so easy when he had talked about it to Sam, but it wasn't. He really did like Michelle, and he would have said yes to her easily if it hadn't have been for Sam. He didn't know if what he told Sam about wanting somebody not like him, a sort of not-quite-opposites-attract thing, was true, but he knew that when he thought of Sam, it was an all-consuming thought, and no other girl did that to him.

He lay in bed. Michelle had been really cool about the whole thing; she seemed to understand enough to know he wasn't rejecting her, just that he was involved. Unlike Carly. He knew if Carly pushed matters, she could make things worse. He was fretting about that when the hand stroked his bare leg. He jumped, barely keeping a scream from coming out.

"You know, if I was an assassin, you'd be dead already, Freddie," Sam said. She was sitting on the edge of his bed; he hadn't even noticed any change in weight. She ran her hand along his right thigh, moving from knee to the edge of his boxer shorts.

"Well, you about gave me a heart attack, so almost mission accomplished. What are you doing here, Sam. My mom's home." He looked at the window. It was still locked. "How did you get in?"

"Oh, Freddie. You didn't think I wouldn't eventually be able to get through your locks, did you?"

"Sam, what are you doing?"

"Playing tag. You're it, by the way." She smiled at him. There was no doubt, no fear, no hesitancy in that smile.

Still, Freddie couldn't help himself. "Sam, you shouldn't do this just because of anything I said earlier."

"I'm not," she said. "Not really. What you said was very sweet, and I can understand why another girl would want to be with you." Freddie stared at her. Perhaps even more surprising than the fact that he had been making out with somebody who said he was her sworn enemy was the fact that she said what she just had with a straight face and absolutely no sarcasm in her voice. "But Mama doesn't get swayed by words. I told you I just needed time. Until I was ready. And I'm ready. And I think you better be prepared for your turn, Benson, 'cause Sam's upping the stakes." She looked at his crotch. "I do see that you are ready, though." And she rubbed his cock through his boxer shorts.

"Sam-"

She moved up and put her face right in front of his. "Stop being a girl, Freddie. I don't swing that way. I told you, you're not taking advantage of me. Now, look at me and tell me: you want this, don't you?"

"Yes," he said. She nodded, and gave him a quick peck on his lips. She moved back down, and unlatched the button on the front of his boxer shorts. She pulled his dick out. Freddie saw her trace her finger down his cock and for a moment expected to suddenly wake from a dream. But this was real.

She wrapped her hand around him and pulled up.

"Sam."

"Freddie, stop trying to stop me."

"I'm not. I just don't want you to rip my skin off. Hold it just a little looser." She relaxed her hold a little and looked at him. He nodded. "Use some of the Cowper's fluid."

"The what?"

"Uh, at the top of my...the fluid. It acts as a lubricant." _Cowper's fluid? Sometimes I hate the medical books here_. Sam rubbed the top of his penis, where fluid had formed. Freddie shivered, and his eyes rolled back. Sam watched him react, and she did it more, slowly rubbing the fluid around the head of his penis, so that it was covered with the natural lubricant. Freddie's head was thrown back, and he was clutching the sheets. She moved her encircled hand down his shaft, and this time the lubricant did make it much easier.

"Fuck," Freddie said, through gritted teeth. Sam smiled. Freddie appeared to take to cursing pretty well in certain situations.

"You seem to know a lot about this, Freddie," she said.

"Seventeen-year-old boy," he said, pointing at himself. He thrust into her hand. Her stroke was maddeningly slow, compared to what he was used to on his solo explorations.

"Sam?"

"Yes, Freddie?" She didn't take her eyes away from his penis. She seemed entranced by the sight, or it could have been possibly how he seemed to levitate off the bed, pushing himself into her grasp.

"Can you...will you-"

At this, she did turn to Freddie, smiling, as if she knew what he wanted. "Yes, Freddie?"

"Can you take your shirt off?" She smiled. He thought she would refuse or mock him, but she let him go and pulled her shirt off. As soon as she tossed it to the floor, she resumed her hold on, and if anything her rhythm seemed to be slower. To Freddie, it was exquisite torture.

"You can get the bra, Freddie. You gotta learn sometime." Freddie reached around with one hand and grasped the clasps in back. _It's simple mathematics_, he thought, and after a moment released the pressure on the clasps, and Sam's bra fell forward. She shook it off one arm, and then let go of him for a second to let it off the other. She returned her hold and tossed the bra to the floor with her other hand. Still keeping her hand, she scooted up so that her breasts accessible to him. He touched one her nipples.

"You really like boobs, don't you, Freddie?"

"I like yours," he said.

"Such a flatterer." She watched as his hips raised each time she stroked down, matching her rhythm. "You know what happens at the end of this game, right, Freddie?"

He looked at her.

She bent down and licked around one of his nipples. "You get to be inside me. You get to be inside my pussy. Do you want that, Freddie?"

He nodded. Some part of his mind thought about reading how the French called an orgasm _le petite mort_, which seemed appropriate, as he felt he might die.

"I want that, too. I want you to fuck me."

He gasped. "Sam!"

"What?"

"I'm going to cum."

Oh!" She moved down, still stroking him, so that she was less than a foot from his cock.

"Move...back," he groaned.

"What?"

He waved. She scooted back, just in time. He grunted, a growling, guttaral explosion, and he felt his orgasm in the center of his being.

"Holy crap!" Sam said. Her stroke paused for a second, but then she returned. He felt the shudder of his body lessen as each spurt shot out. He began to breathe normally, feeling a little lightheaded.

"Damn, Freddie, you could kill somebody with that. Remind me not to play _Assassin_ with you anymore." He felt laughter bubble in his throat. His eyes were still closed. Her stroking had slowed, but she still had her hand around him.

He opened his eyes and looked down. His ejaculate trailed from his groin to nearly his chest.

"Sam, can you help me?"

"What do you need?"

"Could you get me a washcloth from the top right drawer in the bathroom. Rinse it with warm water." She let him go, and went to the bathroom. _Sam's being really nice, _he thought. He giggled silently. _She just gave you an orgasm, and you think, wow, she's being nice_.

She came back with the cloth. He held his hand out for it, but she pushed his hand aside and began to clean him, moving the cloth from his chest down to his groin.

"Freddie?"

"Yeah?"

"Is that normal?"

"Is what normal?"

"You know, the amount."

"Oh, I don't know. Not for me, really, but I guess since it's been a while."

She was cleaning around his belly button and looked at him. "I thought you were a seventeen-year-old boy. How has it been a while?"

"I just haven't, you know, since we started playing."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I guess I just wanted the next time to be with you."

"Oh." She appeared to think about that. "I'm done. What should do with the cloth?"

"Rinse it in the sink and throw it in the shower. I'll take care of it tomorrow."

She did, and when she came back, he was sure she was going to leave. But instead, she gestured for him to scoot over. He did, and she lay down on the bed on her side.

"Is that how you do it when you're alone?" she asked.

"Um, no. I usually do it in the shower."

"Shower? I thought you guys did it into a grey sweat sock or something?"

"Yeah, how am I going to explain that to my mom? You know she goes through my room like the CIA. Everything can be washed away in the shower." She nodded. "Uh, Sam?"

"Hmm."

"What are you doing?" They both looked down. Sam had his flaccid penis held between her fingers.

"I don't know. It looks kind of cute."

"Cute?"

"Yeah, so tiny, like a little bird."

"Can you not say 'tiny' in reference to my penis?" he asked.

She laughed. "Well, it wasn't tiny before. Why is that?" she asked.

"I don't know. Some guys are just bigger flaccid. One of the guys in one of my PE classes called it being a 'grower, not a shower'. Sam, could you stop that? My penis is not a marionette." Sam was moving his penis back and forth, making the head of it look like a drunken mushroom.

"It's like he's wearing a helmet," she said.

"Oh, god," Freddie said.

"Sorry," she said. "I just haven't seen very many. Not counting ones in movies or accidentally seeing my mom with her gross boyfriends, yours is the first real one I've seen." She had let go of his cock, but was still stroking it absently with her finger.

"Well, I'm pleased to introduce you to the world of penises," he said. She laughed at that.

"Freddie?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't think any less of me, do you?"

He sat up. "Why would I think that?"

"Because i did that, you know. My mom says once a guy gets what he wants, he acts like the girl is a slut."

"Sam, you're not a slut. And you're not your mom. And whether you did that or not, I think you're great."

"Thanks, Freddie."

"Sam?"

"Yeah."

"Unless you plan on round two, you might want to stop." She looked down. His penis had hardened again under her touch.

"I guess I should probably go back to Carly's."

"Okay." She got out of bed. "Hey, Sam." She turned to him. "Thanks." She nodded, then laughed.

"You owe me big time, Benson." He nodded.

She headed to the door. "Sam!"

"Really, Freddie, I can't. My wrist is sore. I'm not used to that."

"Uh, I was just gonna say you might want to put your shirt on."

She looked down. "Oh."

After she left, Freddie was asleep within two minutes.

He woke up early the next morning, making sure to thoroughly rinse out the washcloth. He started a load of laundry with it and his boxer shorts. _Not supposed to mix them, but oh well_. He checked his room for any possible sign that he had a girl in there with him.

He had a girl in there with him. He grinned stupidly at the thought. He had _Sam_ in there, and she had made him have an orgasm. Life couldn't get any better.

His euphoria crashed a few hours later when he realized he had to tag next, and unless he was prepared to give Sam a medical exam, his knowledge of the vagina and how it worked was severely limited.

He silently cursed his mother. Thanks to her, he could name every part of the vagina and its inner workings. There were multiple medical books around the apartment, and he had seen the vagina in pictures and drawings. But as for sexual understanding of the vagina, his mother had ensured his knowledge was stunted. She had given him the TALK, which had put him off sex for about six months when he was thirteen, especially after she showed him a film of a woman giving birth.

He needed to know what to do. Sam had made him orgasm; he didn't want to have his tag and completely disappoint her. If he was a normal boy, he would just watch porn on the computer. Unfortunately, his mother checked his browser history regularly. He could have used the computer in the _iCarly_ studio, but both Sam and Carly used it also, and he could imagine their reactions if they stumbled across what he had been doing. Gunsmoke was out of the country at the moment and unreachable by phone, and he could have gone to Spencer, but it was about Sam. He didn't think he could say, _hey, I want to learn how to make Sam cum. Can you tell me how?_ Spencer had said he thought of Sam as a little sister, and Freddie imagined what Spencer would say if Freddie had asked that question about Carly. Spencer probably would have punched him, and Freddie wouldn't have blamed him.

Finally, Freddie realized there was only one place left he could go. He didn't want to, but where else could he turn? Maybe Sam would understand that he didn't know what he was doing, but he didn't want to even face that possibility.

His mom was home again that night, but he took a bus anyway. He wasn't sure how long he would be gone. If there was no help to be found, he would be back right away, maybe just long enough to go join a monastery.

He rang the doorbell. _Please make this worth it_. The door opened.

"Hey, I was wondering if you could help me."

"Sure, Gibby's always there for a friend."

**A/N: The next chapter is the first and likely only chapter that will include no Sam. I know. I'm sad, too. But I hope that the Freddie and Gibby interactions will make it worth it. **

**I know some people probably expected Michelle to play more of a part after the end of the last chapter, but she served the purpose I needed her for. Again I make no promises she won't be back, but it's more likely, I think, that Matt would make a reappearance (or I guess, an actual appearance) before Michelle does.**

**So, are you guys gonna put those pitchforks down? Are we cool now?**

**Thanks for reviews from: LiTtLe-MiSs...SeDdIe, pos, S. Benson, kimmyAllen, Vetiver, Termite Tornado, Moviepal, KarmaLord, Princess Starlight, MissSeddie, Daniyell37, mamaluvsangst, maxiefae, clarksonfan, adore202, SeddieBennett, and popcorn1001.**

**Princess Starlight: I would not be the first man who has fallen for the bat of an eyelash. Yet, I remain steadfast. But wasn't it better that we waited? Didn't it feel right? Okay, I'll stop-sorry, I'm writing this after working on the first draft of the next chapter. It's been putting me in the mind of finding something perverted to say about everything. But you got to wait for it. **

**adore202: I wish I could. As I am writing this comment, I do have the next chapter complete and about half of chapter 10. However, I still have editing to do on both of them. I hope that this chapter will get you through until you come back. At least when you come back, you'll have the Gibby chapter and two additional ones to look forward to.**

**SeddieBennett: You hate cliffhangers? You must have loved this chapter!**

**S. Benson: Was she jealous? That's one of the questions, isn't it? I enjoy writing this way, in which we never know exactly what Sam is thinking, but have to rely on her words and actions, and, even then, we know that Sam is capable of lying.**


	9. Chapter 9: Porno in Gibbyland

Chapter 9: Porno in Gibbyland

**Disclaimer: In the still of the night, in the calm of the innocent man's heartbeat, in a newborn baby's cry, then you will hear the discord as man rises up and says, "if I owned **_**iCarly**_**, don't you think we'd get episodes faster than this?"**

_**Note: If you like this chapter, you can thank insomnia for being able to read it so quickly, since I've been up for the last two hours. If you didn't like it...hey, I couldn't sleep, what did you expect? I really do not have the next chapter written yet, so it won't be posted until tomorrow.**_

"So...you sure have a lot," Freddie said.

Gibby turned to him. "Oh, yeah, my cousin gives them to me."

"Your cousin...gives you porn?"

"Yeah."

Freddie looked at the file cabinet Gibby had rolled out from his closet. Freddie estimated there had to be at least two-hundred DVDs. Freddie looked at some of the titles: _Hot Rod MILFs #23; Big Tittied Teenagers; Bisexual Slumber Party #12_. They had watched three different scenes already, and Freddie was pretty sure if he did some of the things he saw in them to Sam, she would rip his balls off.

He had intended to just ask Gibby if he could borrow his computer to look some stuff up, since his mom, Sam, or Carly would not see the history on Gibby's computer. But Gibby wanted to know why Freddie wanted to use it, and when he finally broke down and told him he needed to look at some porn, instead of looking disgusted or insulted, Gibby had gotten a delighted look on his face, dragged Freddie into his bedroom, and pulled the file cabinet out of his closet. When Freddie had inquired about Gibby's mother and brother, Gibby told him they were in Tacoma for a few days.

"So, why would your cousin give you porn?"

"Oh, he gets DVDs every time he makes a movie, so he always gets me a copy."

"Wait a minute, your cousin _does _porn?"

"Yeah, he was in that first scene we watched."

Freddie picked up the DVD and looked at the back, trying to concentrate on the names, and not the erect penises and impossibly large breasts. "Your cousin is Johnny Hardiron?"

"We just call him Billy. Nobody else in the family knows he does this. Or at least they pretend not to."

"You watch porn with your cousin in it?"

"Well, it's not like you ever really see his face. So mostly you don't even know that he's the guy." Freddie nodded.

Freddie hadn't thought his first time watching porn would be with another guy, and it was making him uncomfortable, especially since watching the scenes was giving him an erection, even though he thought nothing on there was as sexy as Sam.

"You know, it's cool if you are, Freddie, but I'm not gay."

"Wait, what? Huh? I'm not gay."

"That's cool. But if you are, I have some stuff you can watch."

"I'm not gay!" He scooted away from Gibby a little bit. "Wait a minute. If you're not gay, then why do you have gay porn?"

"Always pays to check," Gibby said. _This is my last resort for help_, Freddie thought. _I'm so dead_.

"So, Gibby, I guess your cousin talks to you about his work."

"Yeah, every once in a while."

"Do girls really like it when that's done to them?" He gestured to the screen, where the apparently faceless actor was hitting the girl in the face with his penis.

"I guess some might, but not generally. He says they do that because guys like to see that."

"They do?" Freddie tried to imagine doing that to Sam, and he couldn't see how she would let him or why he would want to.

Gibby pressed pause on the DVD player. "Why did you want to watch this stuff, anyway, Freddie?"

"Well, I wanted to kind of see, you know, how to do some stuff," Freddie said. He could feel the heat on his cheeks.

"You haven't watched porn before?"

"Have you met my mother?" Freddie asked.

Gibby nodded. "Good point. Okay, if you're looking for pointers, these are not what you want to study."

"They're not."

"No way. These are made a certain way because the people who buy them want them that way. You've watched the scenes so far. Do you know what's wrong with them?"

"Uh..." Freddie didn't know anything. That was why he had come to Gibby, of all people, for help.

"They're not realistic. There's like three or four guys standing around, watching them do this. And Billy says a lot of the positions they have to do are uncomfortable, but they look good on film, so they have to do it. Billy had to do this one scene where he was carrying the chick while he screwed her. He has to go to a chiropractor now. He also says that he's seen a few guys be blackballed...heh...because they aren't able to stay hard. I guess that's why they have fluffers."

"What's a fluffer?"

"It's a girl they keep around to make sure the guy stays hard as they're getting ready to film a scene. She usually blows the guy, I guess."

"That's a job?" Freddie asked. _Do they advertise that, or is just like an understudy position?_

"But if you're looking for some advice on how to pleasure your woman..."

"Please never use that phrase again, Gibby."

"Hey, wait...do you have a woman?"

"Uh..."

"Awesome, Freddie. Who is it?"

"Let's just say that I'm needing this information for future reference and leave it at that."

"Okay. Anyway..." He reached under his bed. "Here we go." He pulled out a large container, which contained, Freddie was not surprised to see, more DVDs.

"What's this, Gibby?"

Gibby picked it up one of the DVDs and held it out to Freddie. On the cover was a blonde woman in lingerie being kissed on the neck by a muscular brunette man. The title of the DVD was _Lovemaking for the Passionate Couple, Volume 1: Kissing_. Freddie looked at the container.

"How many of these are there, Gibby?"

"Twenty-five volumes. If you're looking for what you should do with a woman, unless you're wanting to go into porn, then these are your best bet."

"Okay."

"If you do want to get into porn, Billy offers classes. Pretty reasonable rates, I think."

"I'll keep that in mind. So I guess, you and Tasha...you're not a virgin?"

"Yeah, pretty much still am. We're only up to volume eighteen, but I'm hoping we can get there soon."

"Okay." Freddie looked back at the container with its twenty-five DVDs. He looked back at Gibby, who grinned at him confidentially. Freddie sighed. _You're doing this for Sam. Don't you want to make her happy? _More than anything. Freddie took out his phone and dialed.

"Hey, Mom, it's me. I'm going to be staying at Gibby's tonight. We working on a project for class." He looked at Gibby, who looked at him with a questioning expression. "No, he doesn't do that anymore. I know, Mom. I promise. I love you, too." He hung up.

"Aw, man, did I forget an assignment?"

"No, Gibs. I'm sorry, I had to tell her that. I really need to be able to see these. I'm sorry, I should have asked you. You probably have plans."

"No, I don't. But I'm not really supposed to have people stay over when my mom's not around."

"I'll order us a pizza," Freddie offered.

"Ooh, pineapple and anchovies?"

"Okay, I'll order us _two_ pizzas."

Freddie ordered the pizza. Gibby wanted to watch the DVDs, but Freddie suggested they do some gaming first. He really didn't want to pay the delivery guy while sporting a hard-on. That reminded him too much of one of the scenes in the porn movie he had watched.

"How long are these DVDs, Gibby?"

"About thirty minutes apiece."

_Okay, thirty minutes apiece. Twenty-five DVDs. Twelve and a half hours!_ He looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost eight already; he would be up until nine in the morning. Of course, his mom was working another double tomorrow, day shift and evening shift, so he should be able to grab some sleep after he left Gibby's. And since it was his turn to tag, he shouldn't have to worry about Sam tagging him, although he wasn't sure what to do if she decided she just wanted to hang out. He would have to come up with something.

"Okay, Gibby, let's put the first one in."

Freddie had thought that viewing pornographic movies with Gibby had been strange; that was nothing compared to the weirdness of watching the new DVDs with him.

Apparently, Gibby felt that DVD-watching was an audience-participation event. During some stretches of viewing, Gibby would provide commentary that sounded eerily like Howard Cosell to Freddie. Freddie actually preferred that to the scenes of the couple, because as soon as Freddie heard the soft, romantic music, he knew that Gibby would be providing the dialogue for the couple. Gibby's vocal choices made it seem like Lurch from _The Addams Family_ was trying to seduce Minnie Mouse. Freddie had thought several times of asking Gibby to stop, but each time he told himself that Gibby was helping him. _Not if you have nightmares about it. Because Lurch is so much bigger than Minnie Mouse. Aw, man, now Gibby's making me weird, too._

Gibby overshared, too. Freddie was looking forward to volume nineteen, just so they could get one in which Gibby didn't have to share his personal experience.

"That's important," Gibby said.

"What?"

"To remember that every girl is different. Just because you do something that one girl likes doesn't mean every girl is going to like it." Freddie thought about how good it felt when Sam bit him, but how he had been surprised at how she preferred his touch to be much lighter. "I mean, look at that." He pointed to the screen, where the man was sucking on the woman's breast. "I can't do that with Tasha. Her nipples are too sensitive. I just blow on them gently, and they get hard. And her nipples are huge!" He held his finger and thumb nearly an inch apart. "She has to wear a special bra."

Freddie stared at Gibby. _Great, now I'm gonna have to not breathe around Tasha. Wait, I'm not gonna be able to look anywhere near Tasha's breasts without thinking about this. Screw it. I'll just never see Tasha again._

"And Billy says it's even worse on set. Because the actresses have all the power. You know, 'cause everybody wants to see them, and they don't care about the guy, unless he can't get hard. He said that on his third scene he ever did he kissed the girl. But apparently she doesn't kiss on film, and she ended up punching him and breaking his nose. And he was the one who had a hard time getting a job for a while."

_Oh, I could do that. I'm used to violence from Sam. Wait...am I thinking about being a porn star? I don't even like changing in the locker room._ He looked at Gibby, who seemed to have no problem being half-dressed most of his life. _Nope. Don't think that. Get it out of your mind. _But his mind had already suggest a title: Full of Gibbbbay!

Volume 8.

With the DVD cover of naked Gibby strategically positioned behind a bent-over naked girl, and giving two thumbs up for the camera.

_Oh, god_.

"Freddie, what are you doing?"

Freddie looked at Gibby, who was looking at him as if he had punched a baby seal. "Taking notes."

"Taking no...is that a flowchart?"

Freddie looked down. "Yeah."

"You can't flowchart making love, Freddie! It's an art, not computer programming."

"It helps me."

Gibby looked disgusted. "It's gotta be spontaneous, Freddie. You can't program it. 'Insert tab A into slot B'"

Freddie looked at his flowchart. "I'm not inserting 'tabs'. And I'm spontaneous. I just like to have all my options easily accessible."

"What are you going to do with that, anyway? Won't your mom find it?"

"Crap." Freddie thought. "I'll just type it up and encrypt it, maybe write it in Endylsian. My mom will never be able to figure that out."

"What's Endylsian?"

"It's the language on Nug-Nug's home planet. Duh." Freddie looked at Gibby like he had grown a second head. Gibby's look in reply was similar.

"Um, let's just watch the next video."

They watched a few more videos in silence. Occasionally Freddie would scribble something down, and Gibby would give him a dirty look.

"So what about this? You any good at it?"

"What?" Freddie looked at the screen. "Talking dirty? I don't know. It's not something that's really come up."

"Well, try it," Gibby said.

"What?"

"Try it. Tell me you want to fuck my wet pussy."

"I'm not telling you I want to fuck your wet pussy, Gibby. Stop! What are you doing?" Gibby had grabbed his shirt.

"Taking my shirt off. It's hot."

"You're not taking your shirt off while we sit here and watch people have sex."

"But-"

"No. Here, eat the rest of my pizza. I'm not hungry. It will distract you."

"It's really hot. I'm not used to wearing a shirt this long."

Freddie got up and turned on the overhead fan. "There. Now keep your shirt on, shut up, and let's watch some people fuck."

Gibby took a bite of pizza and chewed it thoughtfully. He turned to Freddie. "That was pretty forceful. Some girls find that a real turn-on."

Freddie covered his face with his hand.

"You can skip that one," Freddie said.

"But, why? It's helpful."

Freddie took the DVD and showed the cover to Gibby. "I don't really think I need a lot of help with...fellatio."

"But," Gibby pointed out, "then you'll be able to tell her what you like."

"And when she asks me how I know so much about blowing guys, what am I supposed to say?"

"Oh." Gibby looked thoughtful. "You could tell her tell her other girls did it to you," he said doubtfully.

"Can't. She already knows I haven't been with other girls."

"Okay." Gibby put in the next video. "So there is an actual girl." He grinned.

"Shut up, Gibby."

"Right." Gibby looked upset. Freddie took the remote from him and paused the DVD in the middle of the FBI warning.

"I'm sorry, Gibby. I really appreciate you helping me with this, but I don't want to talk about her. Okay?"

Gibby smiled. "That's cool." Freddie unpaused the DVD.

After volume eighteen, Gibby did in fact quiet down. Freddie glanced over at one point and saw Gibby hide a pad of paper he had been writing on. Freddie smirked at him, and Gibby rolled his eyes.

Freddie's phone buzzed.

_Where are u? _It was a text from Sam. Freddie thought about what he should reply. He didn't want to lie to Sam, but he couldn't tell her the truth.

_At Gibby's. Working on a film project. What are you doing up?_

_Couldn't sleep_, she replied. _What kind of film project are you working on with Gibby?_

He thought about what to reply, but then Sam texted, _Never mnd. Dont want to know what you nerds are doing._

_I'm not a nerd_.

_Yes, you are. It's cute, though._ Freddie stared at the screen. Sam had called him cute outside the game. Should he say something about it?

Sam texted again. _Don't stay up too late. New steak place. Eat 72 oz stk and get free. Ur taking me! Nub._

Freddie shook his head, laughing. _K. Sleep well, princess._

_Damn skippy_. Freddie smiled.

He looked at Gibby, who was grinning at him. "What?"

"Who was that?"

"Nobody."

"Nobody texted you at three in the morning?"

"Yeah. So let's continue watching."

"I'm just saying you were grinning like this crazy baboon I saw at the zoo once. It was throwing poo everywhere. They had to tranquilize it."

"Gibby, can we watch?"

"Okay," Gibby said. He pressed play, and then turned to Freddie. "So you're, like, actually in love with her? This mystery girl?"

"Shut up, Gibby," Freddie said, quietly.

"Awesome."

**A/N: I know that was a little shorter than the other chapters, but there's only so much Gibby you can take before you burst from excitement. This was a bit of a break from the flow of the story, but I really needed to cover Freddie's knowledge gap, and this just seemed liked the most fun way. I have to say that I've probably laughed harder writing this than anything I've ever written before. I hope everybody else got a chuckle from it. If you didn't, just look at it as me being weird and feel relieved that the next chapter goes back to the Sam and Freddie dynamic.**

**I know I said that Sam didn't make an appearance in this chapter; I wasn't really counting texting, so...she sort of did.**

**Thank you for reviews from: MissSeddie, Kechara7881, SeddieBenett, S. Benson, december1992, axel100, Vetiver, Darsnider, Princess Starlight, myjumpingsocks, melb102, clarksonfan, and Moviepal.**

**axel100: I'm sure Carly has the best of intentions, if not the most gracious techniques.**

**Princess Starlight: Maybe you understand now why writing this chapter brought out the perversity factor. And as for what Freddie will do next...well, he didn't spend an entire night watching porno with Gibby for nothing.**

**clarksonfan: As I informed the violence-threatening princess above you, this chapter has thrown my thought process into overdrive, and when I read your 'Gibby? What does he know about giving a woman an orgasm?', completely unbidden came a quote from him in "iKiss". So thanks for that, as I think I threw up in my mouth a little. And if you think I'm sick because I thought of that quote, well, look in the mirror, because you knew which one I was writing about. Pervert!**


	10. Chapter 10: You're the Girl in This

Chapter 10: You're the Girl in This

**Disclaimer: **_**Romeo**_**: But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East and Juliet is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon who is already sick and pale with grief- **_**Julie**_**: Yeah, yeah, that's cute. Do you own **_**iCarly**_**? **_**Romeo**_**: Alas, fairest of maidens, all that I own is the bird of my heart that- **_**Julie**_**: That's nice. You keep that. Come see me when you get some scratch. ***_**slams shutters**_*****

Freddie got to the eighth floor, stumbled into the apartment, and locked the door. He put a chair in front of the door, although he knew that, since Sam had already shown she could now get through the locks, the chair wasn't likely to stop her. He barely glanced at the note from his mom that stated she had gotten a ride from a co-worker, but that she would need him to pick her up. He put his phone on vibrate and set his alarm clock, so that he would be able to wake up in time to go to the new steak restaurant with Sam.

He plopped on the bed in the clothes he wore and was asleep within a minute.

His dreams were strange at first, understandable after the night he had. At one point, he found himself swimming through a sea of penises and vaginas, and he knew somehow he would not make it to the other side until he had connected them all in the correct pattern. He had a flowchart that told him what to do, but they had taken it from him before they threw him in. A shirtless and perhaps nude Gibby waved to him from the other side, then gave him a big thumbs-up. He could not tell if Gibby was nude, because he was standing behind a naked girl whose buttocks seemed to bounce to the rhythm of an Adele song.

There were other strange things, including at one point Gibby's cousin hitting a girl on the forehead with his penis, but it wasn't actually a penis, but a long, slick anchovy. All his dreams eventually faded until one was left.

"_Freddie, that was amazing."_

_They are on his bed, the sheets pushed to the floor. Their legs are entangled, and he can feel the heat of her on his thigh. He rolls off her._

"_I just want you to be happy, Sam."_

_She lays on top of him. "I'm glad we did this, Freddie, but we didn't need to have sex for you to make me happy."_

_He looks at her. "What are you saying, Sam?"_

"_That I love you, Freddie. I've always loved you. I just could never find a way to tell you. I love you."_

"_I love you, too, Sam. I just can't_

believe you said it." He sat up and looked around. "Damn it."

He looked at the clock. It was half an hour until his alarm clock was supposed to go off. That gave him some extra time, so that was good. He took out the notes he had written at Gibby's and typed them up in Endylsian and for added security, encrypted them, and added two-layer password protection.

_Where u at?_ he texted Sam.

_Home. pick me up in 90?_

_I'll be there._ That gave him some time. He removed the bag from the paper shredder and put a new bag in. Then he put the notebook paper through the shredder. It was a crosscut shredder, so all that was left was tiny particles. Yet, he still took that bag and dumped it into the toilet. He flushed multiple times and inspected in and around the bowl to ensure there were no pieces. With his mother, you never knew. He put the old bag back in the paper shredder. He took a shower and dressed.

Freddie was at Sam's house five minutes before he was supposed to be. His mother had taught him that people should always be punctual.

"Dude, you're early," she said when she opened the door. "Hold on." She gestured for him to sit down on the couch, but he remembered what she had said the last time he had been there, so he just stood in the living room. Sam went to her bedroom. Freddie looked around. If possible, the room was messier.

"Did your mom ever come back?" he called.

"Yeah, for a little bit, but she's back in Vegas again."

"Bingo player?" he asked, as Sam came out of her room.

"No. Blackjack dealer."

"Oh."

"Now let's go eat some steak."

The restaurant was all wooden tables and sawdust on the floor. Freddie made a note to himself to clean the bottom of his shoes before he walked into the apartment. He didn't need his mother freaking out about him being in unsanitary environments.

When the waitress came to them, Sam ordered the 72 ounce steak, and Freddie ordered an eight ounce sirloin.

"You want the eight-ouncer and you want the Behemoth?"

"Yep," Sam said happily.

"You realize if you don't finish it within an hour, you have to pay for it."

"I'm not paying. He is. And he's not gonna have to pay for that." Sam shooed the waitress away. "Can you believe she had no faith in me?"

"She just doesn't know your awesomeness, Sam."

"She will."

As they waited for their food to come, they talked some about school and _iCarly_. Sam had plenty of ideas for the show, most of which involved a fair amount of pain for either Lewbert or Gibby. None of them involved hurting Freddie, which was a change, but not one he was willing to point out, unless she decided to remedy the mistake.

"So you spent the night at Gibby's. Does he have like a collection of squirrel heads he keeps under his bed?"

"Gibby's a good guy, Sam," Freddie protested, while trying not to think about what Gibby did have under his bed.

"Whatever. I couldn't imagine doing a school project with him. So what was-"

"Steak!" _Thank you_, Freddie thought.

The waitress put down a normal-sized plate in front of Freddie, with his eight-ounce sirloin and a baked potato. She put a bowl of rolls in the middle of the table. Two men put down Sam's steak in front of her. It was on a plate roughly four times the size of Freddie's, and the steak still was larger than the plate. The waitress put a timer on the table.

"Remember, you have to finish within sixty minutes, or _you_ have to pay for it." She pointed at Freddie.

Sam looked down at her plate and rubbed her hands. "Holy cow." Freddie groaned. "Come on, that was good." She looked at his plate and then back at her plate. "You really are the girl in this relationship, Freddie. You might as well have ordered a salad with light dressing." She shrugged and took her knife and fork, and started her first slice.

Freddie took his own knife and fork, but didn't start yet. He looked at her, concentrating on defeating the Behemoth. _You really are the girl in this relationship_. It sounded like the typical Puckett insult, but the word choice...well, establishing gender roles sort of indicated a relationship that was more than just friends. _You're just reading into everything because of the dream_, he thought. Best not to think about it, at least not right now.

There were still twenty minutes left when Sam took her last bite. Freddie was thankful, for his wallet's sake.

"How did you-" The waitress looked at Sam. "You're so tiny. There's no way you could do that."

"Sure, she can. She's Sam," Freddie said. Sam grinned at him. The waitress rolled her eyes and picked up the plate. She reached to take the bowl of rolls.

"Not done with them yet," Sam said, pulling the bowl back. The waitress walked away, shaking her head.

After Freddie paid for his meal, they went to the car. Sam patted her stomach. "Okay, maybe I should have taken that extra twenty minutes and only had three rolls."

"Are you okay, Sam?"

"Yeah, just got to let my stomach settle for a while."

"Okay." Freddie started driving. Instead of heading towards Sam's house, he took a different route.

"Where we headed, Freddo?"

"Figured I'd give your stomach time to recuperate. Want to hit Fair Days?" Sam shrugged her shoulders.

Fair Days was an annual event at Wilson Park. It wasn't really a fair or a carnival. There weren't very many rides, and most of them were tame even for young children. But there were performers throughout the park, and activities like face painting and wood-carving. Freddie had gone to it at least once every year, although he hadn't participated in anything for three or four years. He just liked walking around and watching the people.

He got out of the car when they got there. He looked back and saw that Sam was still in the car. _Does she want me to open the door for her?_ That didn't seem like Sam. He started to her side, anyway, and he saw her open her mouth, and he heard the belch, long and loud, even from outside the car.

She got out. "Better," she said.

"Want a breath mint?" Freddie asked, holding out the roll to her. She took one and laughed.

They walked along slowly, not really saying much. They stopped so a group of young children, probably around eight-years-old or so and all with painted faces, could run by them. A herd of parents followed behind.

"Oh, I want to watch this," Sam said. Freddie looked.

"A mime? Really? I didn't think you would like mimes."

"I don't," she said and smirked. The mime appeared to be pushing at something. _Trapped in a box_, Freddie thought. "You know there's nothing there, right?" Sam said. "You could just walk out." The mime's eyes flicked to her, but he continued his struggles. At the moment, Freddie and Sam were the only ones watching him.

"I bet your mom's real proud of you," Sam said.

"Sam," Freddie hissed. The look the mime gave was definitely longer this time.

"If you were really good, you could make me believe you have a viable future," Sam said. The mime stopped and stood looking at Sam, hands on his hips.

"Sorry," Freddie said and grabbed Sam by the hand, pulling her away.

"Bye, mime," Sam said, waving with her other hand.

"What was that about, Sam?"

"Eh. I just really hate mimes." Freddie looked back, and saw that the mime was now apparently hanging from an invisible noose. _That's actually pretty good...if a little disturbing_. The mime saw Freddie looking and tipped his hat to him. Freddie gave him a small nod.

"Thanks for the steak, Freddie. That was actually pretty delicious."

"I still can't believe you ate the whole thing. If I did that, I wouldn't eat again for a week."

Well, you're not Sam," she said.

"Of course not, there can only be the original," Freddie agreed. "Hey, look, fireworks." He pointed up, and they stood there for a while, watching. Sam leaned slightly against his arm.

"You ready to go?" he asked, when the fireworks had stopped.

"Yeah." Throughout the fireworks, they had fallen into a silence, but unlike other silences, for example the one he shared with Michelle in the hall before she asked him out, he was completely comfortable with it.

They separated and got on their sides of the car. Freddie looked at Sam, who returned a light smile. He had held her hand ever since the mime, and she never commented on it or tried to pull away. He began to say something about it, but instead he started the car.

At her house, he got out and walked with her.

"You know, I can make it inside myself, Freddie." She sounded amused.

"The streets lurk with danger," he said.

"Oh, well, then it's good I got you here to protect me, being the dainty damsel I am," she said, teasingly.

"Just figured the steak might have slowed you down, dulled your reflexes," he said.

"Well, then, this is very considerate of you." Freddie looked at her, and she stared back. At the door, she asked, "did you want to come in?"

"Sure," he said.

"You want something to drink?" she asked.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my Sam?" he asked. He came close to her, as if to see where his friend had disappeared.

She smirked. "I was just gonna say if you want something to drink, get it your damn self."

"It's a kind offer, but I'm not thirsty at the moment." He moved to her and put his hands on the side of her face, cupping his hands on her cheeks and curling his fingers under her ears, and kissed her. His kiss was forceful, almost predatory, but she returned it with the same intensity. Freddie tried to recall what he had written, but all thought had left and he could only concentrate on her lips that accepted his so readily, her tongue meeting his, and her taste of steak and breath mint and strawberry lip gloss. He slid his hands down her back and squeezed her ass. She moved her arms under his and cupped the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair.

Freddie bent down and picked her up, breaking the kiss. He carried her, bridal-style, to her bedroom. After the films the night before, his dream about her, and spending time with her, he wanted nothing more than to be inside her, to feel her warm wetness wrapped around his cock, but that was not his goal tonight. She had made him have an orgasm, and he wanted to return the favor.

He set her on the bed, and she looked at him with a hungry look in her eyes. He got on the bed with her, next to her, and continued the kisses. He generally preferred the softer, slower, gentler kisses with her that would build to a crescendo, but not this time. Although Sam seemed to prefer when he was gentle with his touch, she eagerly returned this kiss. He cupped her breast through her shirt, then moved his hand down her stomach, letting it stray for a moment under her shirt and lightly stroking her abdomen.

He took his lips from hers and moved to the side of her throat. He lightly sucked, applying pressure, but not enough to leave a mark.

"Oh, Freddie," she whispered.

He moved his hand from her stomach and down to her jeans. He put gentle pressure on her mound with his palm and curled his fingers in a come-hither gesture at the seam in her jeans, slowly letting his fingers tense and relax against her. He felt the vibration of her moan from her throat, and she pushed against his hand.

He took his hand away and smiled at Sam's disappointed growl. He got off the bed and stood near the end of the bed. She looked at him. He took one of her shoes and flipped it off, keeping his eyes locked on her the entire time. Her eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing. He took the other shoe off, and then he slowly pulled her socks off. He moved to the middle of the bed and unbuttoned her jeans. He unzipped them, letting his pinky finger put pressure on her as he did so. She pushed against it. Grabbing her jeans at her hips and making sure to not take her underpants down, he slowly pulled her jeans down to her knees. When they were there, he went back down near her feet and pulled her jeans off. He put his hand on her ankle and ran it up the length of her calf. Once he got to her knee, he moved his hand to the inside of her thigh and applied gentle pressure with his fingertips as he moved it up to the end of her boxer shorts.

Freddie moved his hands back up to her hips and grasped her boxer shorts. He looked to her to see if she would protest, but she didn't. He pulled them down slowly. After he removed them, Freddie ran his hands on her thighs. Sam had a soft triangular patch of blond pubic hair, and he Freddie lightly touched it with the tips of his fingers, smiling when he saw Sam's body shiver.

He lay back down on the bed with her and kissed her lips again. He again cupped her breast through her shirt and then let his hand go back down to her stomach. He smiled against her when she grunted. He knew it was dangerous to tease Sam, but this was his tag, and he was determined to do things his way.

He moved his hand lightly on her pubic mound, but when she pushed up to him, he moved his hand along her thigh, then slowly slid it along the inside, moving it up near her pussy, close enough that he could nearly touch it, and then he moved his fingers up the crease of her thigh and then over her pubic mound again. He would do the same thing on her other side, all while kissing her lips and her neck. He wanted to touch her there, but he also wanted her to want it, too.

At one point, she reached down and tried to grab his hand, but he moved it away. She pulled from his kiss.

"Damn it, Freddie, if you don't touch me, I'm going to kill you."

"Touch you where, Sam?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know where, Freddie."

"No, Tell me."

"Freddie."

"I want you to say it." He smiled at her.

She grabbed his hair with her fingers and pulled hard. It was painful, and yet it only aroused him more. "I want you. To touch. My pussy." He gave her a kiss on the lips and put his hand between her thighs and caressed her outer lips with his fingers. She immediately let go of his hair and threw her head back. "Oh."

He stroked her outer lips, feeling the wetness of her on his fingers. He resumed kissing her neck. He added a second finger to the edge of her pussy lips and stroked up and down, making sure not to penetrate her. Once he had lubricated his fingers well, he moved his hand up under her hood and gently caressed in circular motions, until he felt the small button that was her clitoris. She gasped and grabbed his wrist, as if she were afraid he would move his hand away.

He continued the circular motion on her clit. He was no longer kissing her; it was impossible to do anyway, as the way her body shivered made keeping up with her mouth difficult. He wanted to watch her, anyway. He applied more pressure and watched her response. She still showed pleasure, but it seemed she liked the gentle touch with all aspects, and he decreased his pressure.

"Freddie?" she moaned.

"Yes," he said, watching her push herself against him.

"Put your finger inside me," she said.

He stopped, pulling his hand up. "What? Won't that, like, hurt you?"

"I've done it before," she said.

"Really?" She rolled her eyes.

"Guys aren't the only ones who experiment, you know?" she said, glaring at him.

"Sorry," he said. He started to move his hand back down to her, but he changed his mind. He got up and positioned himself on top of the bed, kneeling between her thighs.

"Freddie, no."

"What, Sam? I want to see you. You watched me." He made no move to do anything. If she insisted, he would go back to where he had been.

She nodded. He caressed her thighs. He moved an index finger along her pussy lips, letting her lubricate him again. He slowly pushed inside her, allowing his finger to go in up to his first knuckle. He moved his finger back and forth slowly, barely allowing penetration. Sam reached down and pulled on his hand, forcing his finger inside her all the way. She moaned. Freddie looked at her face. Her eyes were closed. She was definitely not showing any pain. Getting over his fear of harming her, he pushed inside her rhythmically.

He took the thumb of his other hand and let it slip inside her, lubricating it well. When he felt it was sufficient, he moved the thumb up and encircled her clitoris with it, lightly stroking it.

"Oh, god, Freddie. That feels good." He watched her, fascinated. She was pushing her hips down, meeting each stroke of his finger. He put his middle finger forth and let it get lubricated with her juices, and then he slipped it inside her, too. Little cries came from Sam, as she thrust harder onto his fingers. Freddie slowly circled her clit with his thumb, trying to maintain that rhythm while he also used his fingers inside her. He hooked them up slowly, attempting to find Sam's G-spot. She cried out. Her legs kicked out, and Freddie moved closer to her, so that she wouldn't kick him. He massaged with the tips of his fingers as he thrust inside her. He tried to maintain the rhythm of his thumb, knowing if something didn't happen soon he would be unable to keep up.

Luckily for him, something did happen. Sam lifted her hips off the bed, pushing into his every stroke. "Freddie, Freddie, Freddie. Oh, shit, I'm gonna cum." Sam grabbed his hand and held it in place, and then she screamed as her legs shot out. What Sam did seemed almost like a seizure, and he had a fleeting fear that he had somehow broken her, but the look on her face told him differently. Finally, her scream stopped, while Freddie thought, _well, it's a good thing her mom wasn't home. I hope the neighbors don't call the cops_.

He moved his fingers slightly inside her, and a spasm seemed to rush through her body. She squeezed his wrist.

"Don't. Move." He was still as possible. Her eyes were still closed, and there was a large red patch on her throat that appeared to go down into her T-shirt.

After a moment, Sam said, "Take your fingers out. Slowly." He did so, noting that her body shivered a little when he did so.

"Sorry," she said. "Sensitive."

"Not a problem," Freddie said. _Sorry? That was amazing_, he thought. He got up and lay down next to her, and she curled up to him with her arm across his stomach and her head on his chest. She put her thigh on top of him, and he could still feel small trembles coming from her.

"Thank you, Freddie," she said. He looked at her; she still had her eyes closed. She looked _peaceful_.

"I'm here to serve," he said.

"Well, good job," she said, and then she giggled.

She turned over, so that she was laying on her stomach. She opened her eyes finally and looked at him, smiling. He looked down at the soft curve of her ass, then looked back at her. She smirked. "Are you checking out my ass, Benson?"

He shrugged. He turned on his side and cupped one of her buttocks. "I was. It's cute."

"Cute? Just cute? My ass is terrific."

"It is," he agreed. "Doesn't it suck when somebody calls something of yours that is magnificent 'cute'?"

She blew a raspberry at him. "Ha. You think my ass is magnificent. And you should be happy that I think your little pal is cute. Most girls at school can't talk about them without saying how gross-looking they are."

Freddie had several things to ponder. "Okay, one, stop saying 'little'. Seriously, I'm gonna get a complex." Sam grinned and held her hands far apart and whispered, 'huge'. Freddie blushed. "And, second, you girls talk about that sort of stuff?"

"What, you thought guys were the only ones who talked about stuff?"

"Well, not really. Sort of. I mean, I've heard you and Carly talk about some stuff, but you never really got too graphic, because you...uh-"

"We're both virgins?"

Freddie shrugged. "I guess. It's just weird hearing that type of stuff. Or that you masturbate."

Sam blushed. "Freddie."

"What? I think it's 'cute'." She punched his arm lightly. "Okay, I think it's hot. Do you...uh, react that same way every time you do it."

Her blush deepened. "Oh, like I need Long-Shot Freddie to talk about how I orgasm." He laughed. "And, no, I don't. So, congrats, Freddie, you're the man."

"Yeah, I am," he said, with an exaggerated deep voice, and she laughed.

"Are you gonna stay?" she asked, quietly. He looked at the clock. His mom's shift ended in a little more than an hour.

"I can't. I have to pick my mom up from work."

"Oh." She looked like she wanted to say something, but she remained silent.

"Sam?"

"What?"

"I really had fun tonight."

She smirked. "Oh, yeah, Freddie Benson gets to play with his first pussy, and he had fun. Big surprise."

"Sam." She cast her eyes down. "I mean it. I had fun all night. Not even counting the fact I made you cum like a madwoman."

Sam's eyes shot up at him. He raised his eyebrows. "You jerk! Think you're such a stud now."

"Aren't I?" he asked, smiling.

She returned his smile. "Kiss my ass, nub."

He shrugged and bent down and placed a soft kiss her buttock. He got up. He walked to the door and turned around, looking at her entire body. She looked back at him, her face on her folded arms, her blond her spilled around her, the pale legs, her bare ass. He thought it was maybe a good thing that he had to pick up his mother, because he felt that if he stayed, he might just tell her. That this was never really a game to him, that he loved her, that he wanted her to love him in return.

"Hey, Sam."

"Yeah, Freddie?" She looked at him, open, innocent eyes. _Chicken_, he thought.

"Tag, you're it."

She nodded. "Good night, Freddie."

"I'll see you."

And she smiled that deadly, wonderful, beautiful Puckett smile. "Oh, you won't. Not until it's too late, and then you're mine, Benson."

**A/N: **

**Thanks for reviews from: LiTtLe-MiSs...SeDdIe, Jarik Kiray, jhulkmn09, twelvex, pos, PakRat36, MissSeddie, popcorn1001, Vetiver, CrystalKR1, SeddieBenett, Princess Starlight, axel100, Cheruth, mamaluvsangst, Moviepal, maxiefae, jamiewalsh, Urias, clarksonfan, jewdork, mnm marshall, isinktohearts, and .**

**Jarik Kiray: Gibby will make a reappearance in the next chapter, but obviously I don't see quite another conversation like the one he and Freddie had, although I wish I had an excuse to write it, because it was so much fun to do. And apparently, I have quite a German fan base. Guten Morgen. **

**jhulkmn08: I think I'm going to ruin **_**Red Rover, Red Rover, send Freddie right over**_** for everybody next. **

**popcorn1001: That and Gibby trying to get Freddie to talk dirty were my two favorite parts of that chapter to write. Actually, the entire chapter was fun to write. I just love Gibby talking with no filter and Freddie's exasperation.**

**twelvex: No, they shared turns. The ones that happened after Sam was watching movies with Carly were essentially discarded, because they weren't within the nature of the game (or you could say that, even though Sam forced Freddie's hand, literally, that it qualified as his turn). And I didn't go fully into some of their turns, because it wasn't necessary (except for me mentioning that Freddie had the backside of Sam's underwear pulled down during one of his turns). **

**SeddieBenett: Breathe! If this is the type of adverse reaction we get, we'll have to cut your daily Gibby dosage down.**

**axel100: I do not have it completely written. As of the time you reviewed, I only had the first draft of this chapter written. Under normal circumstances, Freddie definitely would probably have cut the evening short, but he was doing it all for the girl he loved. And I'm definitely taking a break, so I can at least get out of the mindset of the Gibby chapter, because it seems I have an immediate pervy reply to everything right now.**

**Princess Starlight: Well, after the initial porn, when they moved to the instructional DVDs, Freddie was treating it like research, trying not to think about it. Plus, the image he had of Gibby pretty much put Freddie's libido out of commission for a little bit. And Gibby is just Gibby. We can never hope to understand how he functions. And, yes, your threats forced me to publish early, but now I'm so overcome with the fear that you won't like further chapters that I'm hesitant to publish. Heh.**

**Cheruth: Yep, poor Freddie fell under the authorial prerogative of the writer. Hmm...Freddie can't look at porn himself, because his mom or Sam or Carly would know. He could talk to Spencer, but not about Sam. But, wait, isn't there Gunsmoke? Uh, no, urgent business outside the country, no phones, so sorry.**

**jamiewalsh: I don't think it's a tradition that Freddie's looking to continue. Although I do have to admit I have actually watched one with another guy before. In my defense, I was more than slightly drunk. And I was the one doing the Howard Cosell sports commentary. But, yeah, I couldn't imagine doing that sober.**

**: I'm thinking of going around the country to high schools preaching abstinence, just by going to the microphone and saying, "Gibby porn!"**


	11. Chapter 11: Games People Play

Chapter 11: Games People Play

**Disclaimer: Hey, there, take a look, I'm neither shyster or crook.. The game's the same, if you don't see the prize, I'll take the blame. Here's one **_**iCarly**_**, I put under the cup. Take a good look and tell me what's up. Keep your eye on it, my friend, watch the cups as I move 'em and see where they end. Now, my brother, what cup holds **_**iCarly**_**? That one? You're sure? Nice try. Thank you for the fiver. Let me know when you want to try again to own **_**iCarly**_**.**

"Come on, Benson, I don't see what the big deal is. I'm staying, too."

"Sam, you always stay at Carly's. As for what the big deal is, one, I'll have to ask my mom and have to listen to her complain about Carly trying to kill me." Sam laughed. "And, two, Carly keeps bugging me about Michelle, and I don't know that I want to be stuck in the apartment all night with no room to escape her interrogations."

"Aw, come on, man up, Freddie. She's just a skinny little girl. You can handle her."

"You're littler than her, and I can barely handle you," he said.

She grabbed his shirt and pulled him down. "What makes you think you can handle me at all, Benson?"

"Seemed to be doing a good job the other night," he said.

Her face twitched. "That was pretty ballsy, Freddie. I like it. So I'll let you get away with it just this once. But try it again, and I'll show you 'handling'." He opened his mouth. "And I don't mean like that," she said. He shut his mouth, but still raised his eyebrows at her.

"Sam, you're not beating up Freddie again are you?" Carly asked, coming into the studio.

"I kind of have to, Carly. It's been a while. You know what they say: if you don't use it, you lose it." She threw a smirk at Freddie that Carly didn't see.

"Please don't. He has to be on camera for part of the show, and I don't want to try to hide his bruises."

"Thanks for your concern, Carly." Carly waved at him absently and picked up her _Violin Hero_ controller. "I'm sure if she did anything, Sam would kiss my boo-boos and make them all better."

Sam let his shirt go and moved closer. "You're pushing it, Freddie."

He leaned in, close to her ear, so only she could hear. "You didn't mind the other night," he whispered, and then he moved out of hitting distance.

"By the way, Freddie," Carly said, "Spencer talked to your mom, and she said it was okay if you spent the night."

"What?" He turned to Sam, who was now smirking at him.

"Yeah, so you, Sam, and Gibby will get to stay tonight after the show. Isn't that great?"

"Wait, so Gibby's staying, too?"

"Yeah," she said. "Didn't I tell you that?"

"No." _This is not good._ He sat down in one of the bean bags. Carly played a few songs on the game. He turned to look at Sam, and every time he did, she raised her own eyebrows at him. He knew having the upper hand on her wouldn't last. Now she had the entire night to torture him. Perhaps she was going to take that be-nice approach he had foolishly given her a few weeks before, just so that by the time morning came he would be completely paranoid.

"Why are we doing this again, anyway, Carly?"

She put her controller down. "Because you guys are my friends, and I feel like we never hang around together anymore. I mean, Sam spends the night all the time, but I never feel like the three of us are together unless it's _iCarly_ or at school."

"Wait," Sam said. "Why's Gibby coming, then?"

"Gibby's a good guy," Freddie said, automatically. The other two turned toward him. "What?"

Carly shook her head. "Anyway, I'm going to make some brownies. Come help me, Sam." Sam started to protest. "I'll let you lick the spoon."

"Okay." She headed toward the door, but then turned back toward Freddie. She leaned over the bean bag.

"Sam, what are you doing to Freddie?"

"I just have to make sure he and I have an understanding." She lowered her voice. "I really like the bolder Freddie Benson." She looked at Carly in the doorway, waiting impatiently. Carly could only see the back of Freddie's upper back and neck and Sam leaning over him. Sam put her hand on Freddie's crotch. "And I think you should be just as bold as you want." She stroked his dick through his jeans, smiling menacingly as she felt it harden. "But you just want to remember, Freddie. Every time I will retaliate." She leaned in, as she squeezed and stroked. He didn't move. He wanted her to stop, and he didn't, but he knew what he wanted more than anything was for Carly to not see him creaming his jeans. She whispered, "Mama plays to win, remember that." She let go and went to Carly. "Where's that spoon, Carls?"

"You coming, Freddie?" Carly asked.

"Uh...not yet," he said, with a strained voice.

"What did you say to him?" Carly asked.

"Just making sure he knows his place," Sam said, laughing. After they left, Freddie said his litany, willing himself to shrink. The smart thing for Freddie to do was to do or say nothing that would provoke Sam tonight, because he knew she hadn't lied: she would retaliate. It would be the smart thing. But he had discovered recently that he was fairly talented at not doing the smart thing. And the way Sam had said it-hadn't that sounded like a challenge, like another game?

_You don't want to do what you're thinking of doing, Freddie_, he thought. No. He didn't want to. He did want to.

He left the apartment, telling Sam and Carly he would come back later.

"Mom, you're letting me stay over at Carly's? I thought you were afraid she was going to kill me."

"I'm afraid of that every day," she said, seriously. "But I've been working so much recently, and I feel it's better if you stay with an adult...even if it's Spencer."

"Mom, you really don't have to do this. I'm thinking about staying in Seattle for college. You don't have to bribe me with a car. You're working too hard."

She caressed his cheek. "You're sweet, Freddie. Well, it doesn't matter, anyway. My last double shift is a week from Saturday. I have enough money now. I'm only working that much to pay the insurance for the year. Maybe on my day off we can look for a car?"

"Sure, Mom."

"You're really thinking about staying here for college?" He nodded. "Oh, thank you." She hugged him. "But no pressure, of course." He watched her walk away, obviously pleased. He felt like a crummy son, but he couldn't tell her that she wasn't the only reason he was thinking of staying.

He packed for overnight and went back to Carly's. When he got there, Gibby had already arrived.

"This is going to be great, guys," Carly said, excitedly. Freddie looked at Sam, who still had a smug look on her face.

"So what's the arrangements, Carly?" Freddie asked.

"We'll be in the studio after filming. Spencer already set up the air mattresses in the hall. We just need to drag them into the studio." Spencer waved at them from the kitchen, where he was making something on the stove.

"Where do we change?" Freddie asked.

"Well, Sam and I are in my room, so I guess you guys can use Spencer's room." She looked to Spencer to see if that was all right. He waved again.

"All right, Gibby, let's go," Freddie said.

"I don't want to change yet," Gibby said.

"We don't have to change, Gibby. We're just putting our stuff up," Freddie said.

"Oh, okay." He followed Freddie into Spencer's room.

"Gibby, you can't say anything to the girls about the other night, okay?"

"What would be wrong with them knowing, Freddie?"

"Well, for one, some girls get kind of skeeved out when guys talk about porn. And I just don't need them to know what I was doing, okay?"

"Okay," Gibby agreed. "Hey, is Carly the girl?"

"What?"

"You know, _the _girl. I mean, I know you had a crush on her before. And she looks like she would be pretty flexible..."

Freddie rubbed his head. "Okay, Gibby, you helped me the other night, so I'm gonna give you a piece of advice. I wouldn't mention anything at all about sex to them, because Sam will end up taking your scrotum and pulling it over your head."

Gibby shuddered, thinking of past harm Sam had visited upon him. "No sex?" Freddie nodded. "Got it." They left.

"What took you guys so long?" Carly asked.

"Not talking about anything, that's for sure," Gibby said. Everybody looked at him. Freddie shrugged his shoulders and mouthed "Gibby". They nodded and went back to their business. Gibby gave Freddie a thumbs-up, and Freddie shivered.

Sam was sitting on the couch with the brownie bowl. Carly had foolishly given it to her before getting as much work out of Sam as she could. The bowl was completely clean. Freddie walked by her and shook his head. He took two Peppy Colas out of the fridge. He went behind the couch and held one out to Sam. She looked at him and smirked. She took it.

"Good to see you know your place, Benson," she said.

"I'd be foolish not to," he said, and held his own soda up to her in a salute. She looked pleased with herself and took a drink. That was when he leaned over her and whispered in her ear, "I want to fuck you."

She sprayed soda all over the coffee table.

"Sam, are you okay? What happened?" Carly asked.

Sam stared at Freddie. She looked at Carly. "I think Benson gave me diet soda."

"Sam, it's regular soda. We don't have any diet in the house. Not since your last incident."

"Oh." Carly shook her head, went to the kitchen, grabbed some paper towels and gave them to Sam.

Sam cleaned up the mess, not seeming to realize she was working, although she was not doing a great job of it, as she was staring at Freddie the entire time. She nodded at him. If he wanted to play, she was going to play. Freddie smirked at her and didn't gulp until he turned away from her.

Freddie was saved from immediate retaliation by dinner, or so he thought. Except Sam sat opposite him, and it wasn't long before he felt her foot against his crotch, rubbing slowly. He tried to concentrate on his food, while Sam smiled at him. He picked up and put down the same fork of food three times. He looked up and saw Spencer looking at him strangely. He began reciting his litany in his head while he mechanically ate, doing the best he could to ignore her foot.

"Whoa, I think I ate too much," Freddie said, scooting back his seat. The others looked at his plate, which had hardly been touched, but the important thing was he had moved away from Sam's foot.

Freddie waited until the others had taken their plates to the sink before he felt comfortable getting up. He looked at the others in the kitchen and hissed to Sam, "that wasn't cool."

"What are you going to do about it, Benson?" she asked.

He growled. He looked at the others, who were still turned away from them. He moved quickly and licked the length of her neck. Sam yelled out and spun around on him, losing her footing and falling down.

"Sam, are you okay?" he said, with a concerned voice.

"What happened, Sam?" Carly asked.

"Yeah, what happened, Sam?" Freddie asked.

"Made a mistake and looked at your face," she said. Carly rolled her eyes.

"Guys, can't you get along? Please?"

"Sorry, Carls," they said, and then gave each other a light smack on the cheek.

Everything settled down as they prepared for and started filming. At one point, Carly and Gibby were acting out a scene, and Sam moved out of camera range. Freddie knew something was coming, but there was nothing he could do, since he was holding the camera.

She came behind him slowly, until she was standing behind him. She moved close, so that her mouth was near his ear, and whatever she said wouldn't be picked up by the camera. Carly flicked her eyes at them, but she was in the middle of the scene and had to concentrate on it.

"Did you ever think about me sucking your dick, Freddie?" she whispered. He gulped, but his camera stayed steady. He was a professional. "Just feeling my lips wrap around it, feeling my tongue on your dick. Did you ever want to fuck my mouth, Freddie?" Then she walked away with a smile on her face. Carly looked at Sam's triumphant face and Freddie's shellshocked one. _What is going on with them? How is she torturing him now?_

Freddie didn't really remember the rest of the broadcast, because, if he hadn't been thinking about it before, he was certainly thinking about it now. It didn't help that Sam kept finding excuses to touch her mouth. _Where the hell did she get a lollipop from_?

Finally, it was over. Freddie felt like kicking himself. Why did he constantly think he could somehow get a victory over Sam?

Let it not be said that Freddie did not not put up a valiant battle. He caught up with Sam as she exited Carly's bedroom when nobody was around and kissed her soundly and thoroughly and left her leaning against the bedroom door looking a little shell-shocked herself. The problem was one that he had mused about before: with Sam's tactics, it was very easy to see how Freddie was affected, but not so when Sam was. He could only hope to surprise her or make her blush, while all she had to do was blow in his ear, and he had to wait and mouth silent litanies until his erection went away.

This was a game Freddie could not have won with any girl, but that was especially so with Sam. They were playing a board game with Carly and Gibby, and Sam had ensured she sat opposite Freddie. When it was her turn she would sit up and reach over the board, making it very clear to Freddie that she wasn't wearing a bra. She said nothing, but her smirk remained even when Freddie won the board game, something he wasn't quite sure how he had done.

Later, they watched a movie, and Sam sat next to Freddie. He tried to move, but she prevented him. "You're a good pillow." Soon enough she had fallen asleep, or at least that was how it appeared to the others. Sam had put the pillow on Freddie's lap and laid her head on it. Her hand, hidden from the others, stroked Freddie's dick.

He leaned over. "Okay, you win. Ush?" She "woke" up, stretched her arms, and nodded. Freddie took a few minutes to recover, and then went to the kitchen and put the sink sprayer into his pants and turned it on. Actually, the cold water was somewhat of a relief.

"What was that about, Freddie?" Carly asked.

"I lost," he said, simply. He went to Spencer's room to change into some pajama bottoms.

"What did he lose, Sam?" Carly asked.

"Everything, Carls. He's a loser at everything." Freddie shook his head. He still didn't like it when she said stuff like that, but he knew she didn't mean it. He decided to ignore it rather than be goaded into another game he was sure to lose.

Later that night, Freddie was on his air mattress. Carly and Gibby were on the opposite side of the room on their own. He could hear Carly's light whistling sleep-noises and what appeared to be a dull chainsaw wrapped in cotton coming from Gibby. When Carly had questioned Sam about why she was sleeping near Freddie, Sam had smirked and said, "I have my reasons."

"Sam, please don't hurt him. Not tonight," Carly pleaded.

"I'll think about it," Sam said, and gave Freddie a grin that years ago might have made him burst into tears.

"Freddie," she whispered.

"Yeah."

"You played a good game. I didn't think you were going to last that long."

He turned over on his mattress. He could barely seen her form near him. "Well, you have a couple of natural advantages on me."

"Are you trying to start another game, Benson?"

"No. I just like boobs."

She snorted. Carly's whistling halted, and they both were quiet until it began again.

"Freddie."

"Yeah, Sam?"

"You know I don't think you're a loser, right?"

"I know, Sam."

"I just say things sometimes, you know, it's-" She stopped. Freddie reached out to her, ending up with his hand on her arm.

"Sam, it's cool. I know you. If somebody else said it, it might bother me. But I know that's just how we are. You're still my best friend."

"I am? What about Carly?"

"Well, she is, too. But she doesn't put out." He squeezed her arm. She pinched the skin on the backside of his hand.

"Jerk." He could tell she was smiling, though.

"I mean it, Sam, I couldn't imagine not having you in my life."

"Thanks, Freddie." She was silent, then: "pussy."

Freddie snorted laughter until Gibby thrashed around and muttered something about pterodactyls.

Freddie woke to find everybody else was already up. He checked around him to see if Sam had booby-trapped anything, but all seemed safe. She had shared some sincerity with him the night before, and he knew that probably meant she felt she had to counterbalance it with a prank or insult.

"Morning, sleepy-head," Carly called to him as he came down the stairs. "Want some waffles?"

"Sure thing," he said. Gibby was already devouring his waffles, but he was no match for for Sam, who was done to a few remaining bites, which she liberally doused with syrup every few seconds.

"Here you go, Freddo," Spencer said. He handed Freddie a plate.

"Hey, Sam, can I borrow the syrup?" Freddie asked.

"Get your own," she said. Freddie looked to Spencer who mouthed, "only one."

"It's the only one left, Sam. Can I just borrow it for a second?"

"You'll have to wait," she said.

Freddie shook his head. It seemed the booby trap was downstairs. He could go and get syrup from his apartment, but he was pretty sure it was made with wheatgerm. He decided to just eat the waffles without syrup, maybe throw some strawberries and whip cream on them, but then Carly spoke up. "Sam, I know you're not a morning person, but please just give Freddie the syrup."

"Fine," Sam said, and even though Freddie knew it was happening before it did, he was helpless to move when Sam shot up in her chair and squeezed the bottle over his head, drenching his hair.

"Sam!" Carly shouted. Freddie sighed. Had he wanted to come to this slumber party? No, he did not.

"Whatever, I'm outta here. I'm going to get my bag," Sam said.

"Freddie-" Carly said, but Freddie waved her off. He loved Sam so much, and sometimes he just wanted to kick her squarely in the ass.

"I'm going to clean up," he said, and he went into Spencer's bedroom and grabbed his bag and went to his apartment.

_Every time_, he thought. _Every time she does it to me, and that's why I can never tell her how I really feel, because she'll say, yeah, you're my friend, Freddie, and, yeah, I'll play this game, because I know I can trust you, but actually "love" you? Come on, Freddie, grow up._ He stood in the shower and watched the syrup flow onto the tile. _That's nice_, he thought_, sap from a sap_.

The shower door opened. "NIce ass, Freddie." A hand was placed on his hip and somebody stood behind him.

"Sam?" He started to turn around.

"Uh uh. It's my turn, my rules. No turning around. And what do you mean, Sam? Are there are other naked girls who get into your shower? Because, if so, we need to talk, and remember I do most of my talking with my hands." She smacked his ass.

"You're naked?"

"No, I usually jump into the shower with my clothes on. Of course, I'm naked." She moved so that her front pressed his back, and he could feel her bare breasts.

"Sorry," he said. "I guess the syrup must have seeped into my brain."

He felt her shrug. "Sorry, had to be done. I was going to say you stank and needed to shower, but that seemed kind of obvious. Thank Carly for giving me the idea."

"Yeah, great."

"You big baby." She ran her fingers through his hair, straining the syrup out. Freddie was surprised how gentle her hands were. Soon there appeared to be no more syrup leaking from his head.

"Shampoo," Sam said. He took the bottle and handed it to her, trying to not think about her doing something horrible with it. _I never should have watched that one scene at Gibby's_.

"Relax, Freddie, I'm not going to hurt you," she said, and her voice was soft.

"I didn't say you were."

"You tensed up." Her voice became more jovial. "It does some amazing things to your ass cheeks."

"Sam." And she kissed him on the back, just below his neck. She held the bottle back in front of him, and he put it up. She rubbed her hands together and then massaged the shampoo into his hair.

"You don't think Carly will be suspicious?" he asked.

"I went through your bedroom window, so she wouldn't have seen me. Besides she thinks we're mad at each other."

"I should be mad at you," he said.

She reached around him, letting the water rinse away the shampoo from her hands. She reached down and grasped his dick, which had been hard since she had first touched him.

"It seems like he forgives me," she said.

"He really hasn't mastered the concept of good and evil," Freddie said. Sam laughed.

"You forgive me," she said.

"Yeah, I know."

"Do you have a wash cloth?"

"For what?"

"For soap, nub."

He handed her the loofah. She sighed. "What?" he said.

"I just never knew I was a lesbian. But I must be, because I spend so much time letting a girl play with me."

"Ha ha."

"Soap."

He handed her the bottle. She squeezed it on to the loofah and handed the bottle back to him. Sam gently rubbed the loofah on his back. _Is Sam bathing me?_ She was. She soaped his entire back and shoulders, then ran the loofah over his arms, raising them to get under. She leaned down and soaped the back of his legs.

"Okay, Freddie, close your eyes."

"Sam-"

"Nope, it's my turn, and you don't get to see Mama's goodies yet."

"I've already seen your goodies, Sam."

"Not everything at the same time. The sight might just make you explode," she said, squeezing his cock, "and die. And I couldn't have that. I need somebody to buy me smoothies."

"It'd be worth dying for," he said, and he felt her stop. He waited for the smack or sarcastic remark, but nothing came.

"Thank you, Freddie," she said, softly. "Are your eyes closed?"

"Yes."

"Turn around." He did. "See, girls, I told you he was hung."

"Funny, Sam."

"How'd you know I didn't have people here?"

"If you did, you would have made a small penis joke," he said.

"Good point." She soaped his chest and shoulders. When she reached up to soap his face, his penis pushed against her stomach.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's okay, Freddie. I don't mind." She finished soaping his entire top and reached down to wash the front of his legs. She finally brought the loofah to his groin, surprising him by not saying anything as she did so.

"Okay, you can turn back around." He did so and opened his eyes. She bent him down and rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. "Conditioner." He smiled at how business-like she sounded. She put the conditioner in his hair, running her fingers through it. "You have such nice hair, Freddie. You shouldn't put so much stuff in it." He wasn't sure what to say to that, since it was both a compliment and an insult, so he said nothing.

She stepped back. Freddie stood there, waiting for whatever was next. He wasn't sure, although he felt he usually knew generally what was going through Sam's mind. All he knew that turning around was the wrong option. He didn't know why he knew that, but he did. She moved forward, wrapped her arms around him, squeezing around his stomach, and leaned her cheek on his back, unmindful of the soap.

"I'm glad I have you in my life, Freddie." And then he did want to turn around, because this seemed like the closest to when he might be able to tell her how he truly felt about her. But she realized him, and he knew it was gone. She pushed his head forward. "Well, lean." He laughed. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, just remembering something." She doesn't say anything, and he thinks, a little sadly, that she has forgotten.

"I hate you, Freddie."

"I hate you, too, Sam," he says, with a smile. And he leans, watching the conditioner and soap trail down his body. He can see her bare feet (_her bare Elvish feet_, he thinks), and he hasn't turned around, so he assumes this is okay.

"All clean," she said. He started to reach for the shower controls. "Well, just one more thing." She reached around him and begin stroking his cock. She blew out air in frustration after a moment. "The water is making this hard. Shut up, Freddie. Give me the soap to-"

"No, not the soap!"

"Why not?"

"Uh, bad experience. Use this."

"Conditioner? Really?"

"Trust me."

"Pervert." She squirted some into her hand, and handed the bottle back to him. He put it up and felt her hand around him once again. "But a pervert who knows what he's doing." The conditioner allowed her more versatility, and she would squeeze him as she stroked. She got up on her tip toes and bit his ear gently.

"Freddie?"

"Yeah," he hissed through his teeth. His breathing was harder and sharper, and he knew that he wouldn't last very long.

"Did you mean what you said before?"

"When?" Barely loud enough for her to hear. He arched his back, and she she put her other arm around him to steady him.

"When you said you wanted to fuck me."

"Yes." Squeezing and stroking. His cock was throbbing.

"Fuck anybody or fuck me?"

"You. God, Sam."

"You want to fuck my pussy?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I want to fuck your pussy. I want to feel your pussy around...oh, god, I'm gonna cum." And, as he said, that she sunk her teeth into his shoulder blade, and his orgasm shot off like fireworks, he lost control of his legs and would have fallen if Sam hadn't held him up. His eyes fluttered, and he felt for a moment that he might pass out. _I didn't think that actually happened_, he thought. Then he was finished, and his body seemed unable to move. Sam released his cock and put her arm around him to connect to the other, supporting him.

"You okay, Freddie?"

"Yeah...just...boom, fireworks." She laughed. She looked at the front of the shower where his ejaculation was slowly slipping down the tile.

"You keep doing that, you might have a job in porn, Fredward."

No! No porn."

"Just a joke, Freddie. Okay, close your eyes." He didn't question this time; he just did it. She cautiously released him, and he found he was able to stand without her assistance. He felt her move in front of him, and then from the sounds of it, she was collecting water in her hands and throwing it at the wall. "I don't know why I always have to clean up after you, Freddie." He laughed soundlessly. Finally, she turned off the water. "Keep 'em closed." she got out.

"Open up." He looked. She had a towel wrapped around her, plus one in her hands. She patted him down, drying him. She took a long time to dry his entire body, and her face was serious the entire time. He kept expecting her to make a joke, but she didn't.

She went to his dresser and pulled out a pair of boxers. "You should put these on, unless you plan on ravishing me right now." No smile.

"What if I do?"

"Make the move."

He backed down. "Can't. Too spent. Can you come back in an hour?"

She smirked. "Window, and everything else, is only open so long. After that, you just gotta continue the game." He nodded, and put his boxers on. He felt like he had just taken a test, and he wasn't sure if he passed or failed.

"I'm getting dressed," she said and went into the bathroom. She came out a few minutes later fully dressed.

By that time, he felt he was more coherent than before. "Sam, you're not mad at me, are you?" She looked surprised.

"No, should I be?"

"No...I just wanted to make sure." He felt stupid. He thought about ripping her clothes off and ravishing her, if only because he seemed to be able to speak confidently to her when they were in the game. "Thanks for the shower, Sam."

"Well, I'm the reason you needed it." She was silent again, and then she moved forward and gave him a soft kiss. "Tag, you're it." She moved to the window. "See you, Freddie."

"See you, Sam."

**A/N: Apparently I am getting elephantiasis of the chapter, as each one keeps getting longer and longer (that's what she said). I'll try to be a little more conservative in the future.**

**Apologies to Mz Briar. I forgot that when I type names with a period in them, that they don't show up for some reason. So in the last chapter author notes, you were the last name in the thank you list and the individual response that started with a colon.**

**Thanks for reviews from: maxifae, sammiilizziee, Jarik Kiray, Princess Starlight, Darsnider, LiTlLe-MiSs...SeDdIe, KarmaLord, MissSeddie, AlexaJohn185, Moviepal, Julefor, lovesux93, mmm marshall, clarksonfan, popcorn1001, myjumpingsocks, Lovin'Seddie, sincerely-sweet, Cukeygirl, Mz Briar, alaskan-anime-girl, Termite Tornado, and mamaluvsangst.**

**Jarik Kiray: As for your PS, I believe you just mastered what I referred to in an earlier chapter as not a double entendre, but just an entendre. No winking required. And as for Freddie, what can I say? He's a giver.**

**Darsnider: I was actually thinking of letting Freddie add Gibby porn to his litany; nothing would calm his raging hormones sooner. And wasn't it better that I got that out of the way at the beginning, rather than just throw it right in the middle of Sam and Freddie's bedroom scene?**

**Princess Starlight: As I sent to somebody else, updates for the rest of the week should be once a day in the morning, with chapter 15 possibly Friday night, but most likely Saturday morning. Freddie's not a wuss; he's...cautious. I think one of the reasons I wrote this is that I've read other 'M' rated fanfic, and in some of them, I felt like "Sam" and "Freddie" could be replaced by any other names, because there was really nothing connecting the people in the story to the characters in the television show. Obviously, I have gone outside the show, too, but I do hope that people can see the characters as Sam and Freddie in my story. Ah, Princess Starlight, you've fallen into the trap all will after my Gibby chapter. You just can't say or write anything without it seeming perverted. Watch: although your aggressive nature has made me feel trepidation, the hungry lust for my handiwork you have shown will allow me to hold my pen straight and let its glorious ink flow. See? Oh, yeah, and...Gibbaaay!**

**Julefor: I know! And from what we've seen of Matt, he seems like a great guy! (Sam voice) What, no, this is a game. Shut up! (end Sam voice). If I hadn't had my fill of flowcharts in my life, I would provide it-but I actually think it's better when people imagine what's on it.**

**popcorn1001: My favorite part about the mime was his final act with the invisible noose and the tip of the hat to Freddie. You just can't keep a good mime down, no matter how much you beat him. When most of your friends are females, you definitely learn that they do indeed talk about that stuff, and that sometimes they get way more graphic than males.**


	12. Chapter 12: Count to Three

Chapter 12: Count to Three

**Disclaimer: Sex! Oh, and I don't own **_**iCarly**_**. (Sorry about the sex thing, y'all, but in speech class, they tell us an attention-getter is really important). Oh, and there's gonna be sex in here. If that shocks you, where you been the last eleven chapters? Come on! Sorry, off track, I was never good at concluding speeches.**

When the alarm clock went off, Freddie reached to silence it, then winced at the pain that shot through his right shoulder. He got up and used his other arm to turn it off. He went to the bathroom and looked at the back of his shoulder in the mirror. Sam's bite hadn't broken the skin, but it must have missed by the barest of millimeters. He could see the impression of her teeth, as well as the pencil-shading marks of a bruise. He would have to wear a shirt around his mom at all times, unless he really felt like doing some explaining.

He experimented and found that the shoulder didn't hurt too badly until he lifted his arm above shoulder level, so again he had to remind himself to not do that around anybody. He laughed, thinking that he wasn't even irritated, that it was a small price to pay to be with Sam; he had suffered worse at her hands just to be near her, just to have her attention on him.

He went to Carly's. Sam was on the couch and glanced at him when he came in.

"What's up, Sam?"

"Nub." Great, so she wasn't going to give him any sign. He should have tried to contact her before he came over, but he also knew if he had done that she might have gotten upset. It was hard to pick the right spot with Sam.

He went to the kitchen where Carly and Spencer were.

"Hey, Freddie," Carly said. "Looks like you got all the syrup out of your hair." She gave a look to Sam, which was useless, since Sam hadn't even glanced at them.

"Yeah, finally, took some time in the shower, but I think it's all out."

"It's not funny, Sam," Carly said, which actually made Freddie feel some relief. If Sam had smiled at what he said, it probably meant she wasn't angry at him.

"Well, what can you say, Freddie?" Spencer said. "Couldn't expect to have a sleepover without something happening." He clapped Freddie on the shoulder, and Freddie screamed out in pain.

Instantly, Sam was next to him. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry", she said, while Carly and Spencer were asking him what was wrong.

"Wait, what are you sorry about, Sam? Did you hurt him?" Carly looked like she was going to start yelling.

"No," Freddie said. "She didn't do it. Not really. I just slipped in the shower, because of the syrup, and hurt my shoulder."

"Yeah...so, sorry you're a wuss," Sam said, unconvincingly.

"Do you need me to take a look at it, Freddie?" Carly asked.

"No!" he said. Sam looked panicked.

"Guys, this can't continue. I feel like you fight all the time," Carly said.

"Carls," Sam said.

"Carly, just let me talk to Sam." Carly and Sam looked at him. "Studio?" Carly nodded. Sam looked at him, then headed upstairs.

"Be careful, Freddie," Carly said. He nodded and headed upstairs. Sam was sitting on a bean bag.

"Sam, I'm sorry if I did anything wrong yesterday. I don't know what I did, but I-"

"You're apologizing to me?" she asked, incredulously. She shook her head. "Let me see it." He took his shirt off cautiously. He heard her pull her breath in. "Oh, Freddie, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Sam. Felt really good at the time." He put his shirt back on and turned back to her. "You're not mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad at you, Fredward?"

"I don't know. 'Cause I act like a guy."

"Well, we know _that_ would have to be an act," she said, smirking.

"Sam, I just don't-"

"I'm still your friend, Freddie," she said. "I, just, sometimes I don't know how to act with, you know, the game and all."

"Well, shouldn't we just be ourselves? Unless we want Carly interfering all the time. And I want to spend time with you." She smirked. "I mean, besides that."

"Okay, we'll be us."

"Hug?" Freddie asked.

"Whatever, I don't hug nubs." She walked out. He shook his head and laughed. He walked out of the studio, and she was there, and she threw her arms around him and squeezed. He held her back and kissed her gently on the forehead. Then she let go and was downstairs without a word. He followed.

"You guys get everything settled?" Carly asked nervously.

"Yeah, to make up for trying to break my shoulder, Sam's treating me to an afternoon at Arcade World," Freddie said. Carly looked shocked, and Sam sneered at Freddie.

"You know, you're paying for everything. And buying me lunch," she whispered to him, as they sat on the couch watching _Girly Cow_.

"I know," he said, grinning. She settled back on the couch, smiling, and threw her legs on top of his lap.

"Sam!"

"Quiet, footstool," she said. They looked at each other, small smiles on their faces. Carly stared at them and shook her head. _I'll never understand them_, she thought.

Two days later, after Freddie had treated Sam to another trip to the arcade, they were headed to the Groovy Smoothie.

"Sam, I won," he said.

"Congratulations," she said.

"So the loser has to buy the winner a smoothie."

"I know."

"Well, telling me you need to borrow money to do it sort of invalidates the whole process."

"You know, when you use big words like that, it just gets me all a-quiver, Benson."

He stuck his tongue out at her. He knew before the started the arcade game that he was going to end up buying smoothies. He just liked bantering with her.

"Hey, guys!" They looked toward the voice that hailed them inside the Groovy Smoothie.

"Hey, Gibby. Ah...hey...uh, Tasha," Freddie said. Sam glanced at him. He had his eyes cast off to the side.

"Oh, my goodness. I haven't seen you guys in so long," Tasha said. She ran up to them and hugged Sam, who pulled back a little, but didn't punch Tasha, which would have been a normal Puckett response to somebody attempting to hug her. Tasha went to hug Freddie, and he allowed it, leaving enough room between her chest and his that a child could walk between them easily.

"So what are you guys doing?" Gibby asked.

"Just came from the arcade," Freddie said, concentrating solely on Gibby. "Sam's buying me a smoothie, 'cause she lost."

"You're paying for it," she said.

Somebody came in behind them, and the movement of the door caused a light gust of wind to enter. Freddie felt it. _I just blow on them gently and they get hard. And her nipples are huge!_ And, although he tried to prevent it, the image of Tasha's nipples shooting through her shirt, pushing through the door, and knocking people over on the street came to his mind. And he giggled. The others looked at him, causing him to giggle more.

"Sorry, hiccups," he said and ran to the bathroom. _Gotta calm down_, he thought. Finally he got himself under control.

When he got out, Gibby and Tasha were gone. Sam was sitting with two smoothies at a table, as well as his wallet. He wasn't surprised. The level of the smoothie that wasn't in front of her seemed shockingly low, also.

"Hey, where'd Gibby go?"

"He said they had to catch a movie. What is up with you, dude?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the whole giggle-fest. That hug between you and Tasha. And the fact you wouldn't even look at her."

"Well, uh, you know how Gibby reacted the last time he saw her in my arms. I didn't need anybody thinking something was going on again."

"Is something go on with you and Tasha?"

"What? She's with Gibby, and he's my friend!"

"You're just being weird."

"I thought you liked it when I'm weird. Gives you more to make fun of."

"There is that." They didn't talk anymore about Tasha, and Freddie hoped Sam had decided it was nothing. _I'm going to need to go through some nipple therapy or something, because I won't be able to look at Tasha again without doing the same thing_.

That night, after his mom had left for another double-shift, Freddie took the last bus of the night to Sam's street. He stood outside her house. The car wasn't there, so her mom was gone, but he wasn't sure if she might be back. He tried the door, and it was locked, so he looked around to make sure there was no one looking and picked it. It took him thirty-five seconds, nowhere near Sam quality, but pretty good for himself, he thought.

He heard music from Sam's room. A heavy bass thump underlined synthesizers. The door was open, and Freddie peeked in.

Sam, in blue boxer shorts and a white tank top T-shirt, was dancing to the music. Not just dancing, but swaying in a provocative way, her hips gyrating in a way Freddie found intoxicating. He leaned against the doorway and watched her.

"That's sexy," he said, during a lull in the music.

She screamed. She turned to Freddie, who was grinning at her. She picked up a hairbrush from her dresser and threw it at him. He easily ducked it. "Son of a bitch. What are you doing here, Freddie?"

"Does a guy need a reason to watch a pretty girl dance?" he asked.

"He does if he doesn't want me to kick his ass," she said. She looked angry, because, Freddie knew, she didn't like being seen as girly. And dancing to a pop song in her underwear definitely could make her seem that way.

"Where's your mom?" he asked.

"Boyfriend."

"Blackjack dealer?"

"No, car salesman."

The song ended, and another began, one with which Freddie was very familiar.

Sam looked at the PearPod and then back to Freddie. "Shuffle," she said.

_Did I tell you I knew your name, but it seems that I've lost it. Did I tell you its my own game? This is not your problem._

"I guess if I'm gonna get my ass kicked, I deserve a final request. Can I have this dance?"

"Freddie..."

He put his arms around her waist, and after a moment she put her arms around his neck. She rested her head on him for a moment, but then pulled her head back.

"Sam?"

"Nothing. Just remembering something." She shook her head at him, letting him know not to ask about it. He nodded and then brought his forehead to rest against hers. Her eyes met his. Their swaying stopped, and they stood there, arms around each other, looking.

"Sam-"

The song changed to one with a cheesy synthesizer, a song that Freddie couldn't tell if it was much different from the first song.

"You have really crappy taste in music," he said.

"Yeah, like you would know. You probably listen to some college band that sings songs about _Galaxy Wars_." Freddie said nothing; he did actually have a few songs like that on his PearPod.

Sam turned around, put his arm on her stomach, and began to dance against him. He tried to keep up for a moment, but then just let her grind against him.

Another slow song, one he didn't know, began to play, and she put her arms around him again.

After a minute or so, Sam said, "Freddie?"

"Yeah?" He grinned at her.

"Your hand is on my ass." In fact, both of his hands were on her ass. He had slipped them under the back of her boxer shorts.

"So it is."

"Don't you think that, you know, you should do something about that?" He nodded, as if to say that she was probably right. He pulled the elastic of her boxer shorts back and pushed the shorts down, letting them fall to her ankles.

"Taken care of," he whispered. He kissed her softly, moving his lips gently against hers. He lightly drew patterns on her ass with his fingers, the sensation causing her to move her closer to him. He moved her closer to the bed and put her on it. He got next to her and continued his kisses. He squeezed her breasts through her shirt and pushed his hand further down her body. He cupped her inner thigh, letting his pinky touch her pussy lips. Sam, it seemed had little use for his teasing, and she grabbed his hand and put it right on her pussy.

"My neck," she said. He had other intentions, but he needed for her to enjoy herself, so he kissed her neck while moistening his fingers between her pussy lips. Once he felt they were slick enough, he put his index finger inside her. He fucked her with it very gently, wanting her to feel good, but not ready for her to cum yet. When he felt she was wet enough, he moved down the bed so that his head was near her hip.

"Freddie!"

He looked up at her. "What?"

"You can't do that," she said.

"It's my turn, my rules, Puckett," he said. She looked shy, embarrassed, traits unlike her, even during their new game.

"What if I taste bad?" she asked. He didn't tell her he had pondered that same question, since he had no experience in it. The video he watched had some comments about it, and he figured that, because of her meat-heavy diet, she was going to have a stronger taste than most women-not that he had anything to compare to. He took a leap and put the finger he had put inside her in his mouth and sucked on it.

"See?" he asked. Her taste _was_ strong, but pleasant. It reminded him in some ways of an Indian restaurant he liked, that his mother didn't know he occasionally went to: salty and spicy and wonderful. "Trust me, Sam." She nodded and lay back. He knew she was still nervous, so he was going to take it slow for her.

He kissed the inside of her thigh and brought his tongue closer to her pussy, so that she could feel his breath on her. He kissed her gently on the outside of her outer labia, feeling her shiver. He encircled her pussy with his tongue, enjoying that she seemed to have gotten over her embarrassment and was pushing toward him. He sensed that she was going to show her frustration with his teasing again, so he spread her lips with his hands and pushed his tongue inside her. She gasped, and he felt one of her hands grasp his hair.

He brought his tongue from the bottom of her lips to the top, noting where she seemed to show the most reaction. He curled his arms around her thighs and pushed his tongue inside her as far as he could reach. He pulled it back and then pushed back, establishing a rhythm inside her, fucking her with his tongue. He would give a little flick with his tongue whenever he reached his furthest. Her thighs were pressed around his ears. He knew she was saying something, and from the way she was moving against him, it must have been something of pleasure, but he couldn't hear because his ears were covered.

He felt her feet on his back, and she was pushing up against him, her hips raising. The pressure on his ears subsided, and he could hear, "oh god oh god oh god fuck fuck" as she was thrusting against him. Her mound crashed against his nose, and then she grabbed his hair with both hands. He gave a small yelp of pain at that, but that only made his tongue vibrate inside her. Then she let go of his hair and grabbed her sheet with her hands, and then it seemed as she had frozen, as she became still in her orgasm, then cried out, allowing her body to crash to the bed.

Freddie placed a kiss on her inner thigh. He found himself somewhat disappointed, only because he hadn't even tried to do half the things he had wanted to after watching the video. But then he recalled that there were some females who could have multiple orgasms. He didn't know if Sam was one, but he wanted to find out. However, he knew from their previous experience that she was particularly sensitive after her orgasm, so he would have to work her back up to it.

He kissed and licked her from her mid-thigh to her inner-thigh on both sides until he felt she had recovered enough.

"Freddie?" She spoke as if she had forgotten he was there.

He separated her lips and sought her clitoris with his tongue.

"Oh, shit," she said and flopped back down on the bed again. He flicked at her clit and felt her buck against him. He took an index finger and put it inside her. He licked at her like she was a melting ice cream cone, remembering not to put too much pressure on her. The video had said that one thing people could do to increase their partner's pleasure was to pretend you are writing with your tongue, so Freddie wrote on Sam's clit in cursive I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U-S-A-M. By the time he had gotten to "A" her legs were wrapped around his head and she had her body arched. He continued to lick and when he felt she had reached the end, he took her clit in his mouth and sucked gently. She cried out again. He continued to suck softly, and her body relaxed, but she jumped occasionally, as if she had electricity running through her.

She tapped him on the head weakly. "You have to stop," she whispered. "I'm gonna die." Freddie nodded, somewhat thankful. His jaw hurt like hell.

He crawled back up and lay on his side next to her. She looked at him with his eyes, but didn't move her body. He bent and kissed her softly on the lips.

"Still trying that lesbian thing, Benson?" Her voice had a tiny shiver-stutter in it.

"What?"

"You have me on your lips."

"Oh, sorry."

"Can you get me my boxers?" she asked. He picked them up and gave them to her. She didn't move. After a moment, he took them back and put them on her himself. "Thanks. Still recovering."

Some hair had stuck to her forehead, and Freddie brushed it away.

"So," he said," you ready for that quiz in History?"

She snorted. "You're a dork, nub." She turned over slowly. "I think I might be partially paralyzed." He laughed, and she joined him. She looked at him. "Did you drive here in your mom's car?"

"No, took the bus."

"Took the-. Freddie, there are no more buses running until morning."

"I know. I'll just walk home."

"Freddie, you can't walk. You'll get killed."

"Sam, you do it all the time."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm me. You're you, therefore getting killed."

"Sam-"

"Just sleep here. Your mom's working, right? So she won't know you're gone. My mom probably won't be home until noon."

"Are you sure, Sam?"

"Well, I don't want anybody blaming me for your bloody and beaten body, so yeah."

"Do you want me to grab a blanket and sleep on the couch?" He hoped she said no, because he really didn't want to touch that couch.

"Freddie, I think we've shared enough of each other that we don't need to worry about cooties or anything. Just sleep here."

"Okay." She watched as he took off his shoes and his pants. He didn't know why he was nervous, since she had seen him in less. Her bed was small, so she turned over and he lay next to her.

She sighed. "I'm not going to be able to sleep with you poking me with that all night, Freddie."

"Sorry. I can sleep on the floor."

"No, just take care of it."

"What?"

"You're a seventeen-year-old boy, remember? Just take care of it. I'd do it for you, but I can't hardly move."

"I guess...I'll go to the bathroom."

"Oh, Jesus, Freddie, just do it here."

"What?" She turned over slowly to him.

"I just had an orgasm on your face three times, Benson. So I don't think you doing that is going to ruin anything." Her face was determined, and Freddie knew he wasn't going to talk her out of it.

"I need something to, you know, catch it."

"There's a purple sock on your side of the bed. It has a hole in it. I was going to throw it away anyway." Freddie got it. He put it on his stomach, covering the top part of his boxer shorts above his groin. As he unbuttoned his shorts, Sam put her head on his chest, watching him.

"You just wanted to see me do this," he accused her.

"Toldja I though he was cute." He groaned. He pulled his dick through the opening and wrapped his hand around it. "See, he's not so small now." Freddie shook his head.

"Shut up, Sam." He used the fluid from on top of his penis to lube his hand and began stroking.

"Jeez, Freddie, I feel like you're abusing a close friend," Sam said.

"I...know what I'm doing...Sam." She took his other hand, which was under her and wrapped it around her and put it on her boob. She looked from him stroking himself to his face.

"Are you going to already?"

"Not an endurance thing when you're by yourself, Sam." He tweaked her nipple gently. "No need for foreplay." Then he quieted as he felt his orgasm coming.

"Do I need to move back?" she asked. He shook his head, unable to talk and then, as he came, he aimed his penis toward his stomach so that all his cum went on the sock.

He lay there for a moment. Sam continued to watch him. Then, she said, "aw, he's getting cute again." Freddie rolled his eyes.

"Trash?" he asked.

"By your side of the bed." He used part of the sock to clean the end of his penis off and then rolled the sock up. He threw it in the trashcan.

"Won't your mom notice it?" he asked.

"My mom? Get serious. And you can take it to the trash barrel in the morning. Grab the trash in the kitchen while you're at it."

"So all I'm good for is being your trash man."

"Not _all_ you're good for. Now, let's go to sleep."

She reached out and turned the bedside lamp off. He curled up next to her and put his arm over her stomach. She took his hand and put it under her shirt and over her right breast.

"Sam?"

"I know it's gonna end up there anyway. Might as well cut out the middle man."

Freddie was quiet for a moment. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Three times?"

"Yeah, yeah, you're the greatest, Benson. I'll throw you a parade when I recover."

He laughed. "Night, Sam."

"Good night, Freddie."

**A/N: I feel like something has been forgotten, but I'm not sure what it could be. Nah, just must be my imagination.**

**Thanks for reviews from: LiTtLe-MiSs...SeDdIe, Julefor, isinktohearts, december1992, lovesux93, sammiilizziee, lianz89, FantomGhost, mnm marshall, Princess Starlight, Purple550, alaskan-anime-girlie21, Mz Briar, maxiefae, Jarik Kiray, jhulkmn08, MissSeddie, clarksonfan, KarmaLord, popcorn1001, Vetiver, Moviepal, mamaluvsangst, CrystalKR1, Daniyell37, Rethea, and xXSeddieXx.**

**Julefor: No, Sam made sure there was nothing blue. Borrowed? Shampoo?**

**isinktohearts: Gibby is a (unofficial) part of **_**iCarly**_**. And he's with Tasha. Carly and Gibby? I don't think so. Why, if somebody were to write Gibby and Carly together in a story and have people like it, that writer would have to be some type of genius or something. I mean, who could be such a literary superhero? Anyway, they aren't getting together in this story.**

**Princess Starlight: I don't know why I have Freddie concentrate on her feet so much. Personally, I find feet to be disgusting...blech, but I know they work for some people, which apparently includes Freddie. Innocent? Bwah ha...uh, I mean, of course, you are...innocent...indeed. And it wasn't so much that Sam had more willpower so much as when Freddie was affected you could **_**see**_** that Freddie was affected. Females have an advantage there in that there is not necessarily a physical sign of their arousal (well, at least not any that are quite as noticeable as an erection).**

**Jarik Kiray: There's somebody for everybody, even Gibby. Some people might not be able to understand why anybody would want to be with Sam, but others understand her appeal. Same with Gibby (to an obviously lesser degree). Again, only a writer of Olympian stature could make Gibby and Carly look good together. **

**jhulkmn08: I can't speak for other commentators, but there are obvious reasons Gibby porn bothers Freddie (refer to his dream). As for me-were I ever to watch porn (which I never do, of course-wait, don't look under my bed)-I probably wouldn't even notice Gibby for reasons he pointed out when talking to Freddie about his cousin's work. And trust me, after my own knowledge and some research I've done for this story, there are definitely some people out there who would be down for some chubby mermaid porn.**

**popcorn1001: Freddie just seems the type of guy who would play board games more than the others, and just like there are some musicians who can still play well when drunk, so can Freddie board when boobnitized. **


	13. Chapter 13: Dinner Time

Chapter 13: Dinner Time

**Disclaimer: Children, he travels in the night, his black robe flowing, his scythe glistening in the moonlight. And he comes to every door, and at every house he visits he leaves no survivors. But he **_**can**_** be fought. He **_**can**_** be resisted. You **_**can**_** repel him. All you need to do is have faith and honor and love and be able to tell him honestly that you DO own **_**iCarly**_**. Oh...you don't. Hmm. Well, night, kids.**

_**Note: long author's note at the end of story. Don't feel you have to read it...but you know you want to.**_

Freddie woke up early the next day, kissed Sam on the forehead, and left her with a note. He almost included "Love, Freddie" on it, but chickened out at the last second. He had almost said something last night before the music had changed.

He went home and showered and threw his clothes in the washer. He thought his mom possibly snooped just a little bit less than she used to, as part of her campaign to give Freddie space, thus ensuring her baby would not leave her, but if she found any sign of a female on him, that would change quickly. It might even be worse if she found out the girl was Sam. The only thing worse would be if she found out it was Carly.

As he waited to leave for school, he made some crepes. He had taken a cooking class with his mother for six weeks in the summer and had found he had enjoyed it, that he even had enjoyed spending the time with his mother. He ate his crepes and put a covered dish of them in the refrigerator for his mother, since he would be on his way to school before she got home. _I should really cook for Sam_, he thought. She would like that, he knew, although she might give him some attitude about hiding his cooking ability from her. At first he had thought that if she knew, he would have to cook for her all the time, the same way he always paid for her food or smoothies. He realized he didn't care about that, though.

However, how would he explain to her that he would like to cook for her? To Freddie, that moved beyond the friendship they had established. She always made him pay for her stuff before, and they hung out because, after they had dispensed with their "hatred" of each other, they had plenty in common. But cooking for her, wouldn't that be a step in a relationship that was decidedly more than friendship, one that couldn't be explained by a game?

_I'd cook for Carly and Spencer, no problem_, he thought. That was true. But he didn't want to cook for them the same way he wanted to cook for Sam. If they complimented him on his cooking, it would be like when his mother complimented him-it made him feel good, pleased. But the thought of Sam liking his cooking would fill him with more than pleasure, it would fill him with fulfillment.

_Sam's right; I am the girl in this relationship_. He laughed at the thought. There it was again, that word: relationship. Because that was what he thought he and Sam had. Hadn't he thought of her as his girlfriend more than once? And that was dangerous. Because Sam didn't like him that way.

_Why are we playing this game, then? Sam would never let anybody do the things she lets you do to her. Maybe she feels the same way._ These thought had filled his head for weeks now. _Or maybe it's like she said, she trusts you. You're good old reliable, dependable Freddie, and she wants to do this with somebody she can trust. To get it over with. Just like the kiss..._ That was stupid thinking, he knew. Why would she want just to get it over with?

_You think too much_, he thought, and the thought sounded like it came from Sam's mouth. He did think too much, he knew. He didn't do that when he was Sam. When he was Sam, it was just them, and his fears seemed to disappear...around the scariest girl he knew.

_It's almost over; that's why you're freaking out. After the game ends, you don't have any excuses._

He went to school, hoping to see Sam, hoping that one look from her would banish those thoughts. But before he saw Sam, he saw Gibby.

"Volume twenty-one, man," Gibby greeted him. Freddie stared at him a moment before realizing what Gibby was talking about. Volume twenty-one. Of twenty-five.

"Ah, congratulations, Gibby, one more step to the promised land." Gibby nodded, and gave him a thumbs-up. Freddie wished he would stop doing that. "You don't tell anybody else about that, do you, Gibby?"

"Are you kidding? And disrespect my woman?" Gibby shook his head at him. "But you and I are like brothers now, you know? Because we share that common bond of wanting to please the women we love." He patted Freddie on the chest with the back of his hand. Freddie, who had about to ask Gibby not to share any more information with him about his love life, said nothing, as he now felt like an asshole for not wanting to hear Gibby talk about his next step getting into his girlfriend's panties. _Wanting to please the women we love_, Gibby had said. And Freddie had pleased the woman he loved, had spent the night with her in his arms, in large part thanks to Gibby, strange ways and porn cousin aside.

Freddie clapped Gibby on his biceps. "You're a good man, Gibson." Gibby nodded at him and walked down the hall. Freddie saw Sam heading toward him.

"Volume twenty-one!" Gibby shouted behind him. _Oh, lord_.

"What's volume twenty-one?" Sam asked.

"New comic book came out today. Gibby's really excited," Freddie said.

"Yeah, it sounds like it." She looked at Gibby and shook her head. "So what's shaking, bacon?"

_Bacon. Ah, what the hell._ "Hey, Sam, you want to come over for dinner tonight? I'm cooking."

"You're cooking. You can cook?" Her eyes sparkled.

"Yeah, I can cook. I took some classes this summer."

"Are you good? Don't lie to me." Sam looked like her life depended on it.

"I'm excellent," he said. "I was going to invite Carly and Spencer over, too." _Why did I say that. Coward. Coward! But if they're there, that might stop my mom from thinking anything is happening between me and Sam. If only I could tell her that there was something, it would be worth it putting up with her hysteria_.

Sam paused. "Well, I'm still getting the majority of the food. What are you cooking?"

"It's a surprise. And you always get the majority of the food," he said. "Be there around eight."

"I'm always on time for food," she said, as they headed to class. Before the bell rang he texted Carly and Spencer, asking them. Carly replied almost immediately that she would love to, and Spencer replied an hour later that he had a previous engagement (those were the words he used, which meant, Freddie knew, that he had a date).

Freddie texted his mom what he planned. On the one hand, she was glad to not have to cook. On a couple of different hands, she didn't think what Freddie planned to cook was particularly healthy (although neither were some of the other meals he had made, and she had eaten them without complaint) and she wasn't sure she wanted _those_ girls in her house, especially the Shay one. Freddie finally got her to agree; he was hoping she would finally understand they were his friends, and that Carly certainly could not be blamed for Freddie saving her life. He could hope that; he didn't know how likely it was.

As soon as he got home, he borrowed his mom's car to go shopping. By the time he got home, he had less than four hours to cook, which would have been no problem if it had just been him and his mom. But he was cooking mainly for Sam, and he didn't want to disappoint her.

"Oh, goodness, Freddie, I just gained five pounds looking at that," his mother said, as she watched him prepare macaroni and cheese. It was a recipe he had gotten online and modified to his own liking. His mother wasn't wrong; the calories in it were monstrous. He hadn't told his mother that he had often made it when Gunsmoke was around, so that Freddie could have some and give the rest to Gunsmoke, preventing his mom from seeing it in the house. The macaroni and cheese was what prompted Gunsmoke to try to get Freddie to work out more. Not that Gunsmoke ever refused Freddie's food.

"How many cheeses are in there, Freddie?"

He turned to her. "Six."

She held her hand over her heart. "I don't want to know anymore." She walked away. He heard her murmur something about "all of us dying."

He finished most of the meal, only having to allow some stuff to bake, with thirty minutes to spare, so he took a shower to wash away the kitchen heat and smells. He thought for a moment about dressing for the occasion, but then realized he wouldn't know how to explain that to Sam. He put on jeans and a button up shirt, but decided to not button it up all the way. Because this wasn't a date, just friends. _Yeah._

"Where's the food, Fredward?" Sam said as a greeting when he opened the door. Carly stood behind her and gave him a little wave. Of the three of them, Carly was the one who was dressed up, but Freddie knew that was more for his mother's benefit than for Freddie. Carly knew how Mrs. Benson felt about her and took every opportunity to get in her good graces, never understanding that every thing she did only set Mrs. Benson against her further. Freddie felt bad about it, because he knew Carly didn't deserve it, just as sure as he knew his mother wouldn't let her protective anger go anytime soon.

Freddie had everybody sit down. He had Sam sit between Carly and Mrs. Benson for safety reasons, but also so he could sit down opposite her.

He poured his mom a small glass of wine, gave Carly lemonade, and put a bottle of Peppy Cola in front of Sam. He had water next to his plate, feeling as if he couldn't handle anything else at the time, although he did have to resist the urge to chug his mom's wine. _You're just nervous_, he thought. _No chiz._

Sam watched him as he prepared the plates. "You'll make somebody a good wife some day," she said.

"Any woman would be lucky to marry my Freddie," Mrs. Benson replied automatically. He loved her and appreciated her defense, but if he could get away with putting duct tape over her mouth, Freddie would do it. The last thing he needed was Sam going on an insult barrage, just to see how long it would take to get Mrs. Benson to blow her top.

"Here you go, Sam," he said, putting her plate in front of her.

"Why did you give her food first?" his mother asked.

"You always feed the most dangerous bear first," Freddie said. Sam stuck her tongue out at him. She looked at her plate untrustingly. He put plates down in front of Carly and his mother. Their portions were significantly smaller than Sam's. Freddie's own plate had even less food than theirs. His stomach was unfit for digestion at the moment. If things went well, maybe he would sit down with a bowl of the mac and cheese while watching _Galaxy Wars_ later.

"What's this?" Sam asked.

"Apple and onion-stuffed pork chops, macaroni and cheese, scalloped potatoes, and bacon-fried green beans." His mother looked at him. "You and Carly have regular green beans. This is the only way I could get Sam to eat vegetables."

"I'm still doing it in protest," Sam said. She was reluctant to eat, a rarity for Sam. He knew it was because she was afraid his food was going to suck, and Sam couldn't help but be honest about it. It was something he was worried about, too, even though he had tested his food enough.

"So, dig in," he said. He sat down and and took a bite of his macaroni and cheese. His mother began to eat, starting with her green beans, of course. Carly took a sip of her lemonade and stared at Sam. Sam looked at him over her plate, and he saw her inhale and let her breath out. He would have appreciated her concern about hurting his feelings if she hadn't established that was what she was doing. She took a small bite of the macaroni. Freddie watched her while pretending not to. And there it was. Freddie might be only newly experienced with Sam's pleasure in the bedroom, but he knew her foodgasm face, and that was it! He gave himself a mental pat on the back. Sam looked at him and stabbed a forkful of the scalloped potatoes (to which he had added thin strips of ham) and taste that. He saw her eyes roll. Carly seemed to be comfortable that Sam wouldn't start tossing plates or something, and she turned to her own plate. Her bites were much more delicate, but if Freddie had looked to her, he would have seen a look somewhat similar to Sam's.

Sam took a piece of the green beans, and Freddie saw her mouth the word "bacon". Finally, she turned to the pork chops, which he was most concerned about, because unlike the other food, it had been his first time making this. He saw her face and felt like standing on the table and claiming victory. Instead he took another bite of food, no longer feeling like he was going to throw up.

"Okay, I take it back, Freddie," Sam said, between bites. "You're gonna have to marry me, but you have to cook every night."

"You wish," his mother muttered. Freddie grinned.

'Quiet," Sam said, waving her hand at his mother. "You're ruining this moment I'm having with my food."

Despite a plate that had as much food on it as the other three people combined, Sam was done with her plate first. She looked up from her plate as if surprised to find the food had disappeared. She looked at Freddie, who was holding another plate of food, which she accepted gladly. He took her other plate and rinsed it in the sink.

Sam finished her second plate about the time everybody finished their first.

Sam pulled back from the table. "I don't know what to say, Freddie-"

"What do you say about dessert?" Freddie asked, getting up.

"Our Freddie is the best, isn't he, Mom?" Sam asked Mrs. Benson. His mother looked a little queasy.

Freddie put a slice of cheesecake with caramel drizzle on it in front of Sam. He looked at Carly and his mom to see if they wanted any, but they both shook their heads, Carly with a look of regret.

'Freddie, how did you make this so quickly?" Carly asked.

Before he could answer, his mother replied," he actually made the cheesecake the other day for a benefit bake sale at the hospital. He just made extra. It's nice to see some teenagers who are concerned about others." Carly rolled her eyes. Freddie went to the fridge and took out a paper plate with two slices wrapped in plastic.

"This is for you and Spencer," he said.

She looked at Sam, who was eyeing the plate. "I think I'm going to go put this up now," Carly said, heading to her apartment.

"You know I'll find it," Sam yelled at her. "Hey, Freddie, I'm gonna use your bathroom."

"There's a bathroom right there, young lady," his mother said, pointing.

"It was delicious, but I think those onions gunked my works. Not sure you want me that close," Sam said, and she went to Freddie's bedroom.

Freddie began cleaning up. His mother was looking at him, something he knew never led to any good.

She sighed. "Her, Freddie? Really?"

"What do you mean?"

"Samantha. I might be, as she says, 'crazy', but I know what I see. How bad is it?"

"Mom, what are you talking about?"

"Freddie, are you in love with her?" He stared at her, saying nothing. "Oh, dear."

"Mom-"

"At least it's not that Shay girl."

"What?"

"Freddie, are you sure? I mean, she just seems-"

"You don't know her, Mom. She's hard to know, but when you do-" He shut up. _Might as well sign a written confession_, he thought. He waited for his mother to explode, to say how he was ruining his life.

"Freddie, you need to be careful. Maybe you're right, and I don't know her like you do, but can you imagine being with her five, ten years from now?" She dismissed his answer before he could say anything. "You need to be careful with everything."

"Mom-"

"You still have your protection after our last talk?"

"Mom! We haven't...had sex." He didn't know how to say what they had had, and he certainly wasn't going to with his mother.

She nodded. "Maybe we should watch that film on sexually transmitted diseases again." He groaned.

"Mom, please stop."

She stood in front of him and looked at him. "I have to say, Freddie, I'm not terribly happy with you growing up. If it was up to me, it would have stopped about four years ago."

"Yeah, well, it's confusing to me, too," he said.

"Okay," Carly said, coming back into the apartment, "I think I've might have hidden it well enough for Sam not to find it. Where is she, anyway?"

Freddie was about to say something, just realizing how long Sam was gone. Great, he had given the love of his life food poisoning. She came out of his room.

"You hide it, Carly?"

"Hide what?" Carly said. Sam smirked. Freddie would eat the table if it took Sam more than twenty minutes to find the cheesecake. He went to the fridge. His mother had slipped discreetly to her bedroom, possibly to cry about the loss of her little boy. Freddie took out a plate of food and handed it to Sam.

"Midnight snack," he said.

"You're still gonna cook like this for me after the honeymoon, right?" she asked, laughing.

"Of course."

"Thanks for dinner, Freddie." She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "That's for not letting me know you could cook earlier. I'm going to put this in the fridge." She looked at Freddie, and then left.

"Carly," Freddie said.

"Hmm," she said, appearing lost in thought.

"I have extra cheesecake for you and Spencer, you know, when Sam finds yours."

She nodded. "Freddie, do you like Sam?" _Am I wearing a sign or something?_

"What? Yeah, she's my best friend, just like you."

"No, Freddie," she said, as if he were stupid. "Do you _like _Sam?"

"Why would you say that, Carly?"

"I don't know. Maybe because it seemed like it wouldn't have mattered if me or your mom was here tonight."

"That's not true."

"But-"

"Carly, are you coming or what?" Sam stood in Carly's doorway.

"Coming."

"Carly, don't talk to Sam about this. You're just gonna earn me a beating or something." She nodded, but he wasn't sure he trusted her look.

Finally, he went to his room. Spencer knew how he felt. His mother knew how he felt, it seemed. If Carly didn't know how he felt, she was thisclose. How soon before Sam realized?

Freddie didn't see Sam the next day until after lunch; she had skipped all her classes.

"Did you say something to her, Carly?"

"No, Freddie, but we should talk about it."

"Nothing to talk about. Where is she at, though?"

"I don't know. She isn't answering my texts. You?"

"Yeah, I sent a text or two, but she hasn't answered." He had sent six before forcing himself to stop.

Freddie left Carly before she could interrogate him further.

He finally saw Sam after lunch, but she went to her class and he had to go to his. And then she was gone again before the last class. When he asked Carly, she said Sam told her she had to do something and wouldn't talk to her about it.

That night, completely willingly, Freddie went to a sign language class with his mother. She was working another double-shift that night, with only two more left before she went to regular shifts again, and he felt guilty about her "growing up" comment. Also, he wanted to avoid Carly. And if Sam wanted to see him, he knew she could find him.

His mother left around ten for work. He checked his phone. Carly had sent him three texts. He responded noncommittally to them and let her know he was going to bed. Sam had sent nothing. He took a shower. The thing was, he had been pretty happy last night at dinner, before Sam had gotten up and his mother, and then Carly, had confronted him. It had crumbled that quickly.

He flossed, brushed his teeth, and then realized he might want a piece of cheesecake. He left the bathroom in his towel and started to head to the kitchen.

"Nice towel, Benson." He turned around. Sam was sitting on his bed, wearing her normal sleep wear, boxers and a white tank top. The only difference was that this time the boxers were green and had a cartoon character on them, some sort of cat. There was a bag next to the bed.

"Sam."

"In the flesh." She moved close to him.

"Sam, what's going on? Are you mad at me? Where have you been all day?"

"That's my girl," she said, shaking her head. "I've been busy. And," she said, reaching out and popping the knot of his towel, causing it to fall to the floor," does this seem like I'm mad?" She held his cock gently, and it hardened despite Freddie's wishes.

"Sam, what's going on?" he asked, trying to ignore her hand on him.

"Okay, I'm a little upset," she said. "We promised no more secrets. And then I find out you know how to cook and haven't been making me food. What kind of friend is that?" She stroked him. "And I've been avoiding Carly, because she has this idea in her head about us, and I don't think we want to explain to her what's really going on." She looked at his face, then back to what she was doing with her hand.

"Sam, I'm sorry-"

"Shush, Freddie. I just want to thank you for dinner." Her fingernails lightly touched his balls. "That was very sweet. You didn't have to do that. Although, you are going to be doing it a lot now." She cupped his balls and used her other hand to stroke him.

"What's with the bag?" he asked.

"Which one?" she asked, smirking down at him. "Well, I didn't want to stay home tonight, and I can't stay with Carly without facing questions, so I'm gonna be your roomie tonight. I didn't think you mind."

She put her hands on his arms and guided him to the bed and pushed him gently on it. Then she straddled him. He could feel the wetness of her through her boxers. She rubbed herself up and down on his cock.

"Stop teasing me," he said.

"What are you going to do about it, Benson?" She raised her eyebrow. He grabbed her by the arm and pushed her on the bed, so that he was on top of her. He kissed her, then began sucking on her neck. "Is that all you got, Freddie?"

He moved his hand down and pushed past her boxer and inserted his finger inside her.

"Can't do that, Freddie. My turn, my rules," she said, despite the fact that her hips pushed against his finger.

He pulled his finger out and touched her clit with it. He rubbed it softly between his fingers, and she moaned. "If you want me to stop, Sam, all you have to do is tell me."

"I won't fall for your reverse psychology," she said. Freddie bent down again and sucked on her shoulder blade and then showered kisses up her neck, all the time rubbing her clit. She pulled him by the hair and brought his lips to her, and he felt the moan in her mouth against his as she came. He slowed the motion of his hand, as her hips stopped thrusting against him.

"Bastard," she said.

"What are you going to do about it?" he asked. She smirked and pushed him on his back again.

"Well, before I was so rudely interrupted," she said. She bent down and bit his ear, then trailed her tongue to his neck, nibbling gently. As she went down to his chest, giving him kisses and nibbles and strokes with her tongue, she put her hand around his cock and stroked. She moved down lower, with her thighs on his knees, and she bit the piece of flesh at the top of his belly button.

Then she was further down, pushing his legs apart with her body between them, and she held his cock in front of her face and looked at him.

She licked the inside of his left thigh and brought her tongue closer to his dick, flicking the base of it, causing him to moan. She moved to the other side, doing the same thing, and he realized she was doing the same thing to him that he had to her the first time he had touched her pussy.

She licked his ball sac, and he jumped. She grinned against him. She licked along the length of his cock and placed a tiny kiss when she reached the top. She repeated this twice, softly massaging his balls as she did. She held his cock with her other hand and stroked him, as licked around the top of his head. She looked at him as she did so, catching his eyes. She smiled at him, then took his head within her mouth and sucked it softly. He moaned, trying not to thrust in her. She lowered her mouth until it was past his head and then brought it back up, keeping pressure with her lips, all the while stroking his cock. Each time she went down on him, she went a little further, until she was able to get almost half of him in her mouth. She increased the speed as she went down on him, and her stroke on him was maddening. He felt like he might cum soon, but then she took her mouth off him, making him groan. She took one of his testicles in her mouth, sucking softly, and he arched his back at the sensation.

She put her mouth around the middle of his cock and slid up and down a little before taking him inside her mouth again. She increased her stroke, so that she was almost connecting with the downward motion of her mouth on him.

"Sam," he whispered. He tried to touch the top of her head, and she pushed his hand away. "Sam, I'm gonna cum." That only served to make her mouth suck slightly harder and for her to push a little further down on his cock.

"Sam...Sam...I-" And that was all he said before he felt himself release inside her mouth. And she still sucked at him, still stroked at him, and he cried out, the sensation much more than anything he had ever produced himself or even Sam had done for him. Finally, his orgasm stopped, and she still sucked gently at him. She pulled him out of her mouth and looked at him as she placed small kisses on the top of his cock.

"Sam, how-"

"If you have it far enough back and swallow, you really can't taste too much," she said.

"What?" He still felt a little dazed and was definitely confused.

"You're kinda salty, though. Probably eating too much red meat." She smiled and licked the underside of his head, causing him to shiver.

He shook his head, trying to shake the cobwebs. "Sam, what are you saying?"

"Oh, Freddie, can you do me a favor?" She leaned down into her bag and tossed something onto his chest. "Can you give this back to Gibby?"

He looked at it. _Lovemaking for the Passionate Couple, Volume 16: Fellatio._

He looked at her. She smiled. _Oh, shit_.

"You, uh, borrowed this from Gibby?"

"'Borrow' is an interesting word."

"Uh, Sam..." He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Oh, Freddie, Freddie, don't you know by now you can't pull anything over on me?" She moved up the bed so that she was by his side and rested her head on his arm. "So I know this guy, you might know him, and although he says he hasn't been with any other girls, he's still able to get this girl off. 'Well,' the girl thinks, 'he is good with his hands. Maybe it's just a natural gift.' But then this guy goes down on the girl, this guy who's been with no other girls that way, and he makes her cum three times. 'That's strange,' thinks the girl. 'Could he have been lying to me about being with other girls?' The thing is, this guy is a nub, but not much of a liar, so she has to wonder where he picked up these skills."

"Sam-"

"Shhh. Story time. Well, everybody has access to the Internet these days, so she thinks maybe he's done some research. He's that type of nerd. But his mother checks his computer. So this girl checks this other computer she knows he has access to. Nothing. So maybe he talks to somebody. But who? Not his mother. Not his best girl friend, since she's friends with this other girl. Not his best friend's brother. So what does a boy with no access to porn and nobody to talk to do; he goes to the unlikeliest source."

"How did you know?"

"Well, I...this girl...was confused. But then she ate dinner at the guy's house and looked on his computer under the pretense of going to the bathroom."

"Sam, you got into my private things!"

"Seems you've been the one getting into my private things, Freddie," she said and gave his shrunken cock a tiny squeeze, making it jump a little. "Couldn't find much, but then I saw this one file that was encrypted. So I e-mailed it to myself. It took me a while to get into it, but when I did, I found it was in a different language. Of course, I...I mean, this girl knows the boy is a nerd, and it didn't take long to figure out it was from one of his nerd movies. And, presto, all this information. By the way, nice flowchart." Freddie blushed. "But I noticed a volume missing. But where did he get access to this info? But then I noticed this boy had grabbed another guy at a slumber party and brought him to another room to put their bags in. Well, that seemed like a total chick thing to do, so that was strange. And then the boy can't even look at the other guy's girlfriend, which led me to believe he found something embarrassing about her. What was it, by the way?"

"She has sensitive nipples. And they're huge," Freddie murmured.

"Hmm. Not something I can really use. Anyway, one trip to the potato's house and a little misadventure in his closet-why does he have so much porn, by the way?"

"His cousin gives it to him. He's a porn star. Johnny Hardiron."

"The guy with that tattoo? That explains it. Anyway, I found what I was looking for under the bed. For some reason, this guy didn't want to learn how to give a good blowjob." She looked at him.

"Are you mad?" he asked.

"Still he asks. 'Hey, Sam, I just made you cum, does that upset you?'" She thumped him on the head. "You could have told me."

"I didn't want you to think I didn't know anything."

"You didn't know anything, Freddie. Neither did I."

"Okay...sorry." She glared at him. "Uh, sorry about being sorry." He thought for a moment. "Wait a minute...you know Endylsian!"

"What? No. I had some nerd translate it for me."

"You had a nerd translate a paper about how to get you off?"

Sam was blushing. "Shut up, nub."

"That's pretty hot, actually." She said nothing, still blushing. Freddie laughed. Sam was a secret nerd. "I guess we should go to sleep," Freddie said.

She grinned. "Not quite. You want to know something else I learned in this little film?" She looked at him. He nodded, cautiously. "Well, generally, guys can't have multiple orgasms, although there is a freak here or there. But they can, especially when they are close to their sexual prime, be ready to cum again quickly." She placed his hand on his cock. "Seems to me you've been trying to win the orgasm game, Freddie. Not fair."

She moved down and took him in her mouth again. She took all of him in her mouth, since he was flaccid, although that didn't last long. Soon he was hard, although his arousal was not as urgent as it had been previously. She sucked his cock, looking in his eyes the entire time. For some reason, he found that even sexier than what she was doing. Then she removed him and grinned at him.

"What are you doing, Sam?"

She pulled her shirt off and then reached into her bag. She lay on her back and handed him the item she had. It was lubricant.

"What?"

"Put it between my boobs."

"Why?"

"Come on, Freddie. I know you're obsessed with my boobs. Don't you want to fuck them?" He did. He poured some of the lubricant between her breasts and rubbed it on them. "Get up here."

He straddled her stomach and held his cock between her breasts. She pushed them together around his dick, and he moved forward slowly, feeling the lube coat his dick. She was looking at him as he thrust, and he thought she had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

"Come on, Freddie. Fuck my tits. Don't you want to cum on them?" He thrust harder and she stuck her tongue out and licked the top of his cock as he did. He leaned forward and put his hands on the bed next to her head and thrust harder. She squeezed her boobs tighter and he released a much smaller charge this time, but it still felt incredible. For a moment, neither one of them moved. They looked at each other. Then Freddie got up, and much as she had for him, he wet a wash cloth with warm water and came back and cleaned her off. Then he wiped himself off. He tossed the wash cloth in the shower.

He went to the dresser and started to grab a pair of boxers. "I prefer you to sleep naked," Sam said.

"Sam."

"My turn, my rules."

"Then you be naked, too."

"Nope."

"Fine. You have to leave your shirt off, then." She thought about it, then nodded. He got on the bed next to her, feeling his cock against her boxer shorts, knowing if he hadn't already spent twice he would be hard again. He pulled the sheet up over them and put his arm around her, cupping her breast. _This is how we sleep_, he thought.

"Thank you for wanting to make me feel good, Freddie," she said.

He laughed. "No, thank you." She giggled. She reached out and held on to the arm that was around her.

**A/N: Sorry the author's note might be a little long, because I wanted to take some time to answer one of Princess Starlight's question, in case others might like to know. I'll try to add some extra story to the chapter to make up for it (I'm writing this before I sit down to write the chapter).**

**Thanks for reviews from: sammiilizziee, Darsnider, LiTtLe-MiSs...SeDdIe, Jarik Kiray, Moviepal, MissSeddie, Kechara7881, Princess Starlight, pos, Cheruth, popcorn1001, isinkintohearts, myjumpingsocks, coiwy1, clarksonfan, Daniyell37, and MaybeINeedaBreak.**

**Jarik Kiray: The second and third were close together, second with the writing and third with the sucking. Sam might have noticed he was doing something different, but I don't know if she would be able to discern upside-down cursive while she was in that state.**

**MissSeddie: That's what Sam said.**

**Princess Starlight: That's just what a guy wants to hear when he's trying to be sexy: "aw, cute." **

**As for what goes through my mind as I write these chapters, I'm not sure exactly what you're asking (since I'm still having some residual Gibby perversity), but I'll do the best I can, and you can let me know if I answered you or you were looking for something else. Around chapter four I wrote a few things about what I wanted to accomplish with each chapter (and, yes, the sexual aspect was one of those), so I go into each chapter with that in mind. Except for what I think I might write during the day, when I sit down to write I have no set idea what I'm going to write. Take a look at the last chapter. I knew I wanted to have Freddie's bruise come up, Sam blurt out her apology, Sam and Freddie do something together (at the time I didn't know what), Gibby and Tasha appear, Freddie goes to Sam's house (also didn't know he was going to catch her dancing, but that happened because I figured she wouldn't be asleep yet and if she was and he tried something, she might have put him through the window-that all worked out, because I like the dance scene, and the callback to a couple of episodes), Freddie taking Sam on a trip downtown (ain't I a cunning linguist?), Freddie's solo shot (that only came to me-oh, lord-a little before I started writing), and then the two of them sleeping in the same bed.**

**So I sit down, write the disclaimer (which is in some ways more difficult than the chapter) and get Freddie's shoulder out of the way right away. I have Spencer clap Freddie on the shoulder, exposing that there is something wrong. I hadn't planned on Carly giving the 'tude to Sam, but that just happened. And I felt like they needed to talk after the previous chapter and get some feelings out there, but not too many feelings. When Freddie saw Tasha, I was originally just going to have him be uncomfortable, but when I rewrote Gibby's comments about her nipples, I just got the image that Freddie pretty much did and felt it had to be in there. Sam was going to not really bring up anything about it, just give Freddie a look, but I felt she needed to do that because of what I bring up in this chapter.**

**As for the sex scene, part of it is just remembering being a teenage boy with little experience with sex (since I decided to not show Sam's point of view as far as what's going on in her mind, it is pretty easy to show what is going on in Freddie's mind), part of is using my experience, and part of it is just trying to write a scene that if I read it, I would think not only that it was sexy, but it was in some way romantic, because I have read some of the stuff on here, and a lot of it falls into the cliches that are, well, more the porn that Gibby's cousin does than **_**Lovemaking for the Passionate Couple**_**. Probably the easiest way to say it, and the one that highlights my perversity again, is to just picture the scene as you would find it sexy and write that (unless you're not going for sexy; but I have an advantage if I want to write it funny, since I can draw from my own experience there, too-the "first time" for Freddie in my story "Maybe It's Just Me" is based in a few ways (not all) on my first time, except my first time was even funnier, although maybe not so much at the time).**

**Or this chapter: after I had written the first paragraph, I had no idea that Freddie was going to cook. That just sort of happened. I was going to have his mom come home and the two of them talk, but logic suggested to me that between her work ending and his school starting there would not be enough time, but I wanted him to do something for her, thus the crepes...and the rest just followed.**

**Was that what you were looking for? Something different? Let me know, and I'll answer the best I can.**

**axel100: Yeah, I've been to Seattle before without any issue. And I'm not implying in my story that Seattle is not safe. I guess there was another reason I wrote that the way I did. Although Mia Zapata's murder did happen in Seattle. I guess we'll never figure out why Sam said that.**

**Cheruth: I actually don't know that Freddie's past crush will come up between Sam and him. I have covered it before in other stories, and to do it again would feel like a crutch to me. I think that Sam doesn't believe he had a crush on Carly anymore, but that's not saying she might not say something during a fight or to tease him.**

**insinkintohearts: Sorry about that. Been writing a lot recently. Typos are gonna happen sometimes. Oh, you thought the sex was next, huh? Do you think it's next one, huh? We'll see. And I can't see a Carly Gibby pairing working, "What if No One's Watching"-just wouldn't happen.**

**Daniyell37: Oh, that must have been a mistake on my part. I'll make sure not to forget the tag again.**


	14. Chapter 14: Game Over

Chapter 14: Game Over

**Disclaimer: One day Fox was walking in the woods. He was hungry. Not hungry for food, mind you, for he had stopped and feasted on a field of cute and cuddly rabbits, who had not run, because all they knew to do was be cute and cuddly. No, Fox was hungry for entertainment. There was no fun in the woods, not even when Bear did his finger puppet show. Fox thought it was derivative and uninspired and did not care for the times he had been the finger puppet. But then high in a string of ivy, Fox saw it: hanging enticingly-**_**iCarly**_**. Fox jumped to get it. He took a running leap. Nothing. He tried climbing a tree and jumping. Without success. **_**It's probably stupid**_**, Fox said to himself, and sulked away, never noticing the ladder lying in the tall grass. But it wasn't stupid, and all the animals enjoyed it, except for Bear, who hadn't been told about it. But he had a special plan for finger puppeting that night, and he knew just the animal to help. Do you know who that was, Fox?**

It had been two days since Freddie and Sam had slept together in his bed. When he woke up to see her still in his arms, he couldn't believe how happy it made him. He got up and made her breakfast and brought it to her. When he woke her, she called him her housemaid, but smiled at him.

She left, and Freddie didn't see her again until they had rehearsal for _iCarly_. She greeted him amiably when he came in, a strange occurrence in itself. Usually she made sure to insult him or was friendly. This time, she just nodded at him and said, "Freddie". They went through rehearsal, and as soon as it ended, Sam left. She didn't even give him a chance to talk.

"What did you do to her, Freddie?" Carly asked.

"What? I didn't do anything."

"She hardly spoke tonight if it didn't have to do with something we rehearsed. You must have done something."

"Maybe you did something," he said. "We haven't almost lost _iCarly_ twice because I got into a fight with her." _Great, now I'm snapping at Carly_.

"Freddie-" She looked hurt.

"I'm sorry, Carly, but so she didn't talk. I don't know why you think that has anything to do with me."

"Because there's something going on between the two of you, and the two of you aren't sharing with me. I thought we said there wouldn't be any more secrets."

"No, Carly, you said there wouldn't be any more secrets, and you forced us to agree with it. I don't tell you everything that goes on in my life. Neither does Sam. And neither do you. The only time this 'secret' thing comes up is when _you _want to know something."

"Freddie, don't be mean to me, please. You know I just want-"

"Yeah, Carly, I know, you just want what is best for us. And I appreciate that, I really do. But that doesn't mean I necessarily want you to decide what is best for us."

"You really have been hanging out with her. You're starting to sound like her," Carly said. She had moved closer to him, standing with her hands on her hips. He knew if he hadn't proved to her a few years ago that he was stronger than her, she probably would have already held him down until he agreed to do whatever she said.

"I'm sorry if you think that, Carly. I just said what I feel."

"Freddie, won't you please tell me what's going on? You guys never talk to me about anything. I hardly ever see you anymore."

"What? Are you jealous?"

"Yes! You and Sam have something going on, and you're like Sam-and-Freddie, and I am just left out in the cold, and I'm afraid that somebody will get hurt, and then I'll have to pick up the pieces without really knowing what's going on."

"Well, it's nice to see how much faith you have in us, Carly. I don't know why we wouldn't want to share everything with you."

"Freddie! Stop. I just don't want Sam to be hurt."

Freddie looked at her. "You think I would hurt Sam?"

"I don't think you'd mean to, but you're stronger than Sam-"

"You obviously haven't been on the other side of her fist."

"I don't mean like that, Freddie. Bruises heal. The way Sam can get hurt won't."

"I know," Freddie said. "I have to go."

_Well, that worked out well,_ Carly thought, throwing herself down on a bean bag. What was going on with her friends?

The next day, Freddie waited at Sam's locker for her to appear. She saw him and started heading the other way.

"Sam!" He ran to catch up with her. "Sam, what's going on?"

"Oh, hey, nub. Nothing going on. Just places to go, people to be."

"Sam," he said, bringing his voice to a whisper. "Why are you avoiding me?"

"Get over yourself, Fredward. Nobody's avoiding anybody. My whole life can't be about you, all right? Jeez." She stepped around him and walked away down the hall. He knew he should chase after her.

"What's going on, Freddie?" He turned to see Gibby looking at him. Freddie shrugged. _What's going on? I wish I knew_.

There were some other students in the hall. One of them, Phil Klassman, leaning against his locker, looked down the hall at Sam and turned to one of his friends, "I'd tap that ass."

Gibby frowned at him. Freddie looked at Phil and said, almost conversationally, "go fuck yourself."

Phil shot off the locker. "What'd you say, Benson?" He was about six inches taller than Freddie and leaned over him, trying to intimidate Freddie.

"I said that you should scoot up to that locker, bend over, and stick your fist up your ass...bitch." There was a giggling sound inside Freddie's head, which didn't surprise him, because he obviously had gone insane.

Phil stared at him. Then he turned to his friends. And then back to Freddie. If it had been somebody else, Phil probably would have already clocked him, but he was still trying to process that it was _Freddie Benson_ who had just told him to fist-fuck himself.

"What's going on down there?" Mr. Howard yelled from down the hall.

Phil moved closer. "You're lucky, Benson. But don't think I won't get you for this."

Freddie nodded dismissively. "Maybe you will. Maybe you won't. But just think about this." He moved closer to Phil himself. "That girl you'd 'tap' has caused pain to me in ways a troglodyte like you couldn't even dream of, so if you think the thought of you beating me up will keep me up nights, think again. _And_ think about what she'll do once she finds out what you said about her. I seem to remember you've had some experience with Sam Puckett's fists? I think the phrase 'crying like a bitch' came up."

Phil backed up. "You'll get yours," he said, pointing at Freddie, but his voice lacked conviction. Phil took a look at the witnesses who had seen him and Freddie interact, possibly weighing the embarrassment of Freddie Benson ranking him to the humiliation of another Sam Puckett ass-kicking. He left without looking at Mr. Howard's glare.

"Ouch," Freddie said. He turned to Gibby, who had pinched Freddie's cheek.

"Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you weren't an alien wearing a Freddie mask."

They walked down the hall a bit. "So, Sam, huh?" Gibby asked.

"Gibby."

"Hey," Gibby said, holding his hands up. "No need to threaten me. What you told Phil to do isn't in any of my volumes, and I'd be happy to keep it that way."

"Sorry, Gib. It's just-"

"Not a problem. Love makes us all a little crazy." Freddie shook his head. He needed to talk to Sam.

Sam skipped last period, Freddie found out. This might be his chance to talk to Sam without Carly around. He knew Sam would be at the Shays' apartment. So he left class early; the teacher never noticed him leaving.

Spencer wasn't home when Freddie got there. He went into the studio, and Sam was sitting on the bean bag with her eyes closed.

"Sam."

She didn't open her eyes. "Well, if it isn't Freddie Benson, Ridgeway High School's own hallway fist fucker."

"Sam, we need to talk."

"Come to collect your reward for defending the fair maiden's virtue. Although, I guess we both know there was nothing to defend. Just the way you like it, I'm sure."

"Shut up, Sam."

She was up and to him before he had even finished saying it. "You want to say that again, Benson?"

"I said for you to shut up, Sam. Stop trying to pick a fight with me, and talk to me."

She shrugged. "Nothing to talk about. It looks like Freddie's going to win. I mean, unless we go to the later volumes about 'spicing up your relationship'. So where do you want to do this? Bean bag? Floor?"

"I'm not going to let you push me, Sam." She reached out and put her hand on his chest, and did push him.

"Seems you are, Fredward."

"Sam." She reached out again, and he caught her hand and held it in his own. She yanked it away.

"Are we going to fuck or what, Benson?"

"Sam, no-"

"Then I'm out of here." She walked past him.

"I never thought you were such a coward, Sam." She stopped.

"Trying to use reverse psychology on me so you can get some action, Benson?"

"No, Sam. I quit. I'm not playing anymore. You win."

"Sure. You always say that. Freddie the quitter. How many times has it been now?"

"Sam-" He reached for her arm, and she pushed him away, spinning on him.

"Don't touch me." She sneered at him. "I get it now, Benson. You realized you're not into girls. You weren't threatening Phil today; you were making an offer." She waited for him to crack, and he wasn't going to do it this time.

"That's a pretty lame attempt, Puckett. You must be seriously off your game. It's a good thing I did defend you, because the state you're in, Phil probably could have taken you."

"Nobody can hurt me!" she said, pushing him again.

"That's not true," he said. When she pushed again, he blocked her. "Sam, stop trying to make me hate you. It's not going to happen."

"Well, I hate you." Freddie's heart sank at the words, even as he understood she didn't mean them, that she was attacking with everything she had.

"No, you don't, Sam. You know you care about me. You know that-"

"What, that we're friends? We're not friends. If it wasn't for Carly, you and I would never be...anything."

"So what about all those times we've hung out together without Carly. I'm not talking about the tagging," he said, stopping her protest. "We've gone paintballing, bowling, to the movies, to dinner-all without Carly, and all without this game. And we haven't even really been tagging recently. We've just been _together_."

He saw her trying to think, attempting to turn his words against him. She smiled, a small twist of the lips with no joy. "I get it now. You realize that once this game is over there's no possibility of you ever getting laid again, so you're trying to play on my sympathies. Sorry, nub, end game is end game, and no more for you."

"You know that's not it, Sam."

"Oh, so what is it, Freddork?" she asked, mockingly.

"I'm in love with you," he said, no hesitancy in his voice.

She took a step backward. "What?"

"I'm in love with you, Sam Puckett."

"You...you're just saying that, so you can...so I will-"

"I'm not. I'm in love with you. I love you. I did before we even started playing this stupid fucking game. If anything, I've fallen more in love with you since." She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. "And it's not because of the sex that I'm saying that. I mean, being with you that way has been great, but do you know what my favorite part has been?"

She shook her head, her eyes wide.

"It was the other day, when I woke up and realized you were still there, that I had you in my arms. Sam, I've liked you for years, and I realized in the last year I loved you. Because nobody makes me feel like you do. You're the strongest person I know, Sam, and I admire that strength. But I also see below it, and see this really sensitive person who seems so fragile, and I do want to protect that person, even as I know she could easily kick my ass."

He starts pacing without realizing it.

"You're also like the smartest person I know, although you never let it be shown. And that like pisses me off, because I think if you would just apply yourself. Like when you found out about Gibby's DVDs-that was brilliant. You know, and you're just fun to be with. I know that no matter what, when we're together we'll have fun, even as I know there's a pretty good chance we'll get detention or kicked out of some place. Do you know that I've even started liking those stupid freaking nicknames. I mean, I start wondering what the next one's going to be, and then I start to think it seems like she puts so much effort into them, I wonder if that might just be her way to say that she likes me, too. And I do know you like me. I mean, I don't know that you like like me, or love me, like I love you."

He looked at her, but her face was passive. Her entire body was still. And he continued, somehow unable to stop now that he had started.

"And you're kind. Okay, no, not kind, not all the time. I mean, a lot of the time you're just selfish. You know, that's just Puckett, she just says whatever's on her mind. But then you just have these moments of kindness that I cherish, and then I think that's Sam letting me see the real her, and I feel like I can't say or do anything, because you'll realize you opened up and you'll need to do something like insult me or hit me. You know?"

He stopped inches from her, looked to her for understanding, shook his head when she did nothing.

"I love you, Sam. And I'm sorry if this game ruined our friendship. I'm sorry if me saying this ruined it. But I can't continue on this way. I can't continue having you in my arms and feeling like it's only a game that's keeping you there. And, yeah, I know, you're gonna say, 'well, you're just a girl, Benson. I told you I don't swing that way.' But I don't care if you think I'm a girl. All I care about is you." He stopped and looked at her. "I love you, Sam."

She looked back. "Uh-"

"Hey, guys, what's going on?" Carly came through the studio door. Sam turned to look at her, and then turned back to Freddie. He leaned over and placed a soft, chaste kiss on Sam's lips.

"There, a witness," he said. "You win."

And then he rushed past her and Carly.

"Sam, what was that? What's going on?"

Sam stared past her, at the place where Freddie had been.

**A/N:**

**Thanks for reviews from: coiwy1, Jarik Kiray, zuni-yesi, LiTtLe-MiSs...SeDdIe, twelvex, Julefor, jesrod82, mamaluvsangst, axel100, Moviepal, Princess Starlight, Daniyell37, popcorn1001, Darsnider, Kechara7881, Geekquality, clarksonfan, and Cheruth.**

**LiTtLe-MiSs...SeDdIe: Okay, I'm just calling you LMS from now on; that's too hard to type. I **_**might**_** post two chapters today. I might not. But I may also be breaking chapter 15 into two chapters depending on how long it is. All I can promise (as much as I can promise anything) is that you will have at least one chapter to read by Saturday morning.**

**Julefor: I was trying to write this story without using some of the crutches I used in earlier stories (hence all the fires with Spencer in my last story do not appear here), but I just can't resist Mrs. Benson. She just makes everything more fun. **

**mamaluvsangst: I don't know. Do you think he's blown it now? Well, he's opened himself up to her; now all we can do is see how Sam will respond.**

**axel100: I hope I've shown that Freddie has serious doubts about the "just get it over with" thing, even as part of his mind still questions it. That's the thing about being in love with somebody like Sam; you're just not sure exactly where your footing is. Sometimes you have to make a stand and hope they appreciate it and you.**

**Princess Starlight: I read your sex scene in your story, and I have to wonder just exactly what was in this one that made you blush. I'm enjoying that some people are saying Freddie needs to realize what Sam is trying to tell him, while others are saying Sam needs to get a clue. Tag? Oh, that...uh, I doubt that three or four chapters back dropping it came to my mind. That seems wrong.**

**Daniyell37: Oh, man, did I forget the tag again? I can't believe I did that two chapters in a row. How reckless of me. I should go back and correct it. I'll get around to it. **

**popcorn1001: I know some people might not have her know that, but to me, even though she is often irritating, it's quite clear Mrs. Benson loves her son, and she knew about his infatuation with Carly. So it doesn't surprise me that she would pick up on the signs.**

**Darsnider: Mrs. Benson's rhymes were another thing I purposefully avoided in addition to Spencer fires. **


	15. Chapter 15: Exposed

Chapter 15: Exposed

**Disclaimer: "But, Daddy, that's not how the story is supposed to end. It's supposed to be 'happily ever after'." **_**"Sorry, sweetie. There are no happily ever afters, not even in stories. Not real ones." **_**"So they're just gonna be sad and hurt?" **_**"Maybe for a little bit. But it's not the happily ever after that we need to go for. It's the happiness we can find in each day, in each person that we meet, in the connection between each man, woman, and child, in the fact that even if we don't own **_**iCarly**_**, in some ways we do." **_**"Okay, Daddy. I really did think he was gonna like the green eggs and ham, though." **_**"Nobody does, punkin."**_

The next morning Freddie went with his mother to a used car lot. He hadn't seen or heard from Sam or Carly since he had left the studio. Not only had his declaration of love (which he flinched at every time he thought about it, imagining the words spilling out of him like vomit) moved Sam not at all, it now seemed that he may have lost both his best friends. Of course, Carly would take Sam's side. They had been best friends longer, before Freddie had even become the creepy kid across the hall.

If Freddie had not been distracted by his thoughts, he might have stopped his mother, not for the salesman's sake, but simply because he had been witness to her relentlessness before, and it had been embarrassing. But he barely heard them or saw that the salesman almost broke into tears. And Freddie soon was driving home in a 2003 Honda Civic for which his mother paid about half what was on the sales tag.

"Freddie, are you okay?" she asked, when they got home.

"Yeah," he said, giving her a smile that fooled neither of them. "I really appreciate the car. I'm just glad you're going to stop the double shifts now."

"Tonight's the last." She smiled. "Women problems?"

"Mom."

"Did she hurt you?"

"Mom, no, she didn't. Or she did. Maybe I did it. I don't know, okay?" She nodded and gave him a hug. He felt like he was going to cry. "Can we just not talk about it right now?"

She kissed the top of his forehead. "Okay. But you know I'll be here whenever you're ready to talk." She let him go. "Why don't you take the car out for a drive?"

"You're telling me to go out in the car by myself?"

"You're a grown man, Freddie. Just because I don't want that doesn't mean I don't know it."

So he took a drive, going without any particular destination in mind. He had hoped he would have Sam in the car with him the first time he did this. _Sam's never gonna be in the same room with you again, much less a car_, he thought. _The game went too far, and she's upset at that, and then you had to go and make it worse by telling her you love her, when she obviously doesn't feel that way about you. And now she's just going to be uncomfortable around you._

It was only when his bladder warned him it was reaching full capacity that he really paid attention to the road signs. Spokane 30 miles. He was thirty miles from Spokane. He was nearly four hours from Seattle. Great, now his mom was going to hate him, too.

He stopped at a gas station, emptying one reserve and filling up another. He called his mother to let her know he wouldn't be home until after she had left for work. He might have fudged his reason and how far away from Seattle he was. His mother did not chastise him, and he understood that she was really trying to treat him like an adult. Now all he had to do was get back to Seattle and start acting like one.

By the time he got back, his mother had left. He unlocked the door to the darkened apartment, with only the lightbulb above the sink lit to guide his way. He turned on the lights. There was a note on the table.

_Freddie, I left you the tofu casserole in the refrigerator. Please eat some of it before you start on the macaroni and cheese. If you need to talk, please just call me. I might not be able to pick up the phone, but I will call you back as soon as I can. I know you don't want to talk about girl issues with me, but I'm here. Speaking of, Samantha stopped by to give you something. I'm not sure I understand, but I'm getting used to that. I left it on your bed. Love, Mom_

_Samantha stopped by to give you something_. What did that mean? Was she returning everything he had given her, from that picture of the three of them he framed for her birthday to the bowling trophy he made for her after she won another of their games?

He went into his bedroom, dreading what would be waiting for him. _I hate you, Freddie. This is everything I'm giving you just so you understand that..._

"Sam?"

It was Sam, but yet not Sam. It looked like her, but the look on her face, the one of shyness and nervousness, that wasn't the Sam he knew. She stood in front of his bed, and part of his mind noted the _Altered Mime_ Penny T she wore. It went down to just above her knees, and she was not wearing pants under it. She wasn't wearing shoes or socks, either.

"Hey, Freddie."

"What are you doing here, Sam?"

"I talked to Carly, about our tagging," she said. Her voice was soft, light, almost breathless. "She didn't approve, by the way. And I also told her what you said to me before she came into the studio. And she gave me some advice."

"What was that?" Freddie asked, cautiously. _Be gentle when you dump him, that's what Carly would have said. "I should know," she would say. "I've had plenty of experience doing it." Carly just didn't understand that it didn't matter how Sam broke his heart, it was going to break no matter what._

"Did you mean what you said, Freddie?" Sam asked.

"I...yes, Sam, I love you."

"Like you love Carly?"

"No. I love Carly. I love Spencer. I love my mom. I'm _in love _with you." Although he felt he was only giving her resolve she needed to push him away-after all, if his love was this deep, there was no way they could remain friends-he had to be honest with her.

"And you felt this way for a year?"

"I've known that I loved you for about a year, Sam," he said, moving closer. "I guess you could say I had a crush on you a little longer than that, maybe since around the time Spencer was doing those pranks. I guess I've thought of you differently ever since we kissed."

"And you couldn't have said something before now?"

"I...I didn't want to ruin our friendship, Sam."

"Friendship?" She laughed, but it didn't touch her eyes. "You've never been my friend, Freddie."

"Sam, please don't say that."

"You've never been my friend, Freddie. Because I've had a crush on you pretty much from the first time we met. But I knew, you know, I knew that I wouldn't ever be that girl you would want. I would never be Carly."

Sam. Sam, I don't want Carly."

"Well, I didn't know that!" A tear fell down her cheek. Freddie wanted to wipe it away, but he did nothing. He had to let her talk. "I told myself it's just a stupid crush on a stupid nub. But then I saw you and Carly dancing that night of the Girls' Choice Dance, and I realized it wasn't just a crush."

"Sam."

She held her hand up, silencing him. "A year, Freddie? I only wish it was a year. I only wish you had told me."

"I'm sorry, Sam." _Sam loves me. Sam loves me. I should do something._ And yet, it still felt like she was holding him back.

"You kissed me on the cheek that first time, and I thought maybe...but I know you couldn't feel the same way I did. So I kissed you. I figured if you resisted I could say it was just part of the game, and you were the pussy who quit on it. But you didn't." She hung her head. "And we just kept going. I thought, well, Freddie's a guy. He'd do anything to with a girl."

"Sam, that's not-"

"Shut up, Freddie." Her voice sounded strong when she said that, when she was on familiar territory. But then it went back to its nervousness. "But you wouldn't. I know. You're sweet and nubbish and dorky and you wouldn't take advantage of a girl. I gave you the opportunity. I wasn't testing you or anything. I would have done it gladly. But you didn't. And you were right. It hasn't really been a game. I..." She shook her head, laughing. "I accuse you of it all the time, but it's me. I'm such a girl. We go to movies, we go bowling, we spend the night, you take me out to eat, we make out, and the entire time I pretend we're dating."

"Me, too, Sam," he whispered, and she didn't chastise him for interrupting her.

"But then we kept getting closer and closer to the end of the game. I realized what was coming next a few days ago, and I tried to stay away from you. Not because I didn't want it, but because...well, you hear it at school, guy sleeps with a girl and then he dumps her. And you wouldn't even have to do that, because we weren't really together."

"I would never do that, Sam."

"I know that. And you wouldn't let me push you away. Because you've always been stronger."

"Stronger than you, Sam?" he asked, laughing.

"Don't pretend you don't know what I mean, Benson. Because if you do, I will kick your ass." He stopped smiling. "You know what I mean. You never let anything beat you down. I know, because I've often been what's been beating you down. No matter how many times that I've told you that I'm not your friend, or that I hate you, or that no girl will ever love you, you've always stood by me. I've punched you hard enough to leave bruises, and the next thing you're doing is telling me I did a great job on the webshow. Maybe you're a masochist."

"Maybe I am."

"So there you go, Benson. I've poured my heart out to you like a lovesick girl. If you're recording this, you can put it on the web and destroy my reputation."

"I would-"

"You would never do that. I know that, Freddie. It's a joke. Lighten up." She smiled, and this time it did show in her eyes. "Say that you love me again, Freddie."

"I love you, Sam, more than I could possibly say. But I would always try to let you know."

"And you'd never hurt me?"

_Yes! _he thought _I would never..._ "I can't say that, Sam. I would never try to hurt you. And if I did hurt you, I would do my best to fix it and show you how much I love you."

"Such a smart boy," she said, smiling. She took a step back and pulled her shirt over her head. As he thought, she was not wearing pants. She wasn't wearing anything. "Show me now."

"Sam, you don't have to do this. You don't have to prove anything," he said, yet he was unable to resist taking in the beauty of her. He had seen all of her, but this was the first time he had seen all of her at one time, completely stripped of cloth, fully exposed...vulnerable. That was what she was showing him, he realized, that she was vulnerable. And she was allowing him to see it. _Him_.

"I know I don't have to, Freddie. I want to. I've been in love with you for so long, and we've been doing this thing, this dating without dating thing. I want this. I want you. You win."

"I don't win, Sam. I kissed you in front of another person, so I lose. We don't-"

"Well," she said, moving closer to him. "Carly actually pointed this out. You duplicated a tag that had already been accomplished in the game, so a witness to that does not disqualify you."

"That's semantics, Sam," he said. She was right in front of him, her arms now on his arms.

"I told you I'm not Jewish," she said.

"That's not what-"

"I know, Freddie," she said, grinning. _Did I think she was vulnerable? She recovers fast_. "I'm kidding. So you still win."

"It's not a game."

"No," she said, serious. "You won me."

He looked at her.

"Okay, that was cheesy," she said. "I've been hanging around Carly too long." She shrugged. She took his arms and pulled them around her back. "It's still true, though."

"You're a lot better than that stuffed panda I won at the fair in fourth grade," he said.

She opened her lips and pressed them to his. He felt her tongue push his lips open. He met it with his own tongue. She took one of his hands from behind her back and placed it on her breast.

She broke away from his lips and looked in to his eyes. He brought his forehead to hers. "You show me that you love me all the time, Freddie. I see that now. I only didn't because I was scared. Will you let me feel that you love me?"

She unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, putting her hand around his erection. "Will you love me, Freddie?"

"Yes," he said. He brought his lips to hers again.

**A/N: Okay, I've decided to break this last chapter into two. Those of you who are uncomfortable with or don't care for the more sexual nature of the story can probably stop here. Others can continue in the next chapter, which, yes, will feature scenes of a very sexual nature, but also some of the sweeter side of Sam and Freddie. That chapter will probably be up in the morning, maybe a little later than I usually post chapters.**

**I have to thank everyone who heaped praise on my last chapter, especially those of you who felt it was among the best things I've written. I'm grateful for that, because I have to tell you that of anything I've written in the six stories I've posted, that chapter had to be the most...challenging? Not most difficult, as there were others in which it seemed harder. But that chapter I wrote, pretty much from the beginning I was thinking "this sucks, you suck...even Oscar the Grouch would say this stinks." And I didn't really feel comfortable with it until I had Freddie start his confession. That part just turned it all around for me. I just told myself, "Freddie just can't shut up, and he starts just blathering." I think ending on that (writing) high allowed me to go back and bring the other writing up at least a little bit.**

**Thanks for reviews from: coiwy1, Cukeygirl, Kechara7881, lil miss (you know who you are), zuni-yes, mamaluvsangst, Moviepal, Darsnider, Isaak Magnum Valhyre, crybaby452, popcorn1001, Princess Starlight, Urias, Cheruth, twelvex, jhulkman08, Jarik Kiray, pos, PakRat36, lianz89, Purple550, MissSeddie, Julefor, jamiewalsh, clarksonfan, jewdork, sammiilizzie, and afanoffanfic, **

**Darsnider: I was gonna say, "hey!" about the cliche, but you're right. I hope you liked Sam's response.**

**Princess Starlight: The day I get a review from you that says simply, "Good chapter", I'll know that I've seriously screwed something up. I don't think there's going to be an epilogue (I write before I've finished this chapter); I hope that everybody got out of this chapter everything they wanted. **

**Urias: Right now, I don't have any plans for anything else, but as some people might tell you, that doesn't mean anything, since I don't plan anything really (except most of my first story); the ideas just come. I doubt that I would write anything **_**iCarly**_** not based on Sam and Freddie (except maybe a Gibby insane-o-thon-don't have that planned, though). I'm probably going to start writing something completely my own, since my schedule isn't as convoluted as it has been this summer. But if an idea comes about **_**iCarly**_**, I'll probably write.**

**Cheruth: Soon after the idea came to me, I knew what I wanted Sam's declaration to be, and I felt it would have more impact if we got to it without really fully knowing what was on her mind-but I had to plant hints here and there without definitely having her just shout "I love Freddie!" As for the sexuality, I felt okay about writing the sexual aspects of the story, because I pretty much felt (kind of like I hint in the story) that they have been essentially dating for a long time; they just weren't aware of it. If it had been anybody but Freddie, Sam would not have done this.**

**twelvex: Don't blame Carly; she was just sent from the Sitcom Cliche Office and did what she was supposed to.**

**Jarik Kiray: That's the thing I like about Freddie. He knows if he gets in a fight, it's likely he's going to lose (unless he gets the other person to agree to use swords), but whether he loses or not doesn't matter. I hope that Sam's response, while not as you pictured it, works.**

**PakRat36: I actually like Carly as a character, and I think Miranda Cosgrove has made her more interesting in the last season or so; I just don't see her and Freddie as a couple. **

**lianz89: I know that Freddie being so chatty seems a little unusual, but I wanted to show that once he was finally able to tell her he loves her that he couldn't stop, and that all the thoughts going on in his head were pretty much coming out his mouth.**

**jhulkman08: not sure where you're going with that. Those things are brought up in a bunch of fanfics. I've said them before in my fanfic. **


	16. Chapter 16: The Lovers

Chapter 16: The Lovers

**Disclaimer: "Hello, ladies. This is Johnny Hardiron. You might know me from such films as **_**Deep and Exposed**_**, volumes twelve through nineteen, **_**Pumping (Hard)iron**_**, and **_**Summer Camp Suckers and Fuckers**_**. Take a look at your man. He doesn't possess the magnificent nine inches you see before you. But you can own it, with this replica-hand me the box, Gibby-approved by Johnny Hardiron himself. I might not own **_**iCarly**_**, but I can own you. All. Night. Long."**

_**Note: Mostly sex. Just warning ya.**_

"Will you love me?"

"Yes," he said and kissed her. He put his hands on her face, cupping her cheeks. As he kissed her, he guided her to the bed, placing her gently on it.

"Freddie?" she said, looking up at him.

"I want to look at you," he said, and she blushed, but she made no attempt to cover herself. He trailed his finger from her forehead, running them down her face, over her neck, her breasts, her stomach, barely glancing through her pubic hair, and down the length of her legs.

"Are you going to make out with me, or do you want to take a picture?" she asked, her blush even darker.

"Can I?" he asked, grinning.

"Freddie." He bent down and kissed her. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her. She reached down for the bottom of his shirt and, breaking the kiss, pulled it over his head. Resuming the kiss, he pushed his shoes off one at a time. Sam pushed his already unzipped pants down, and he stood up to shake them off, pulling his socks off as he did so. Sam turned on her side, facing him as he got back on the bed.

"Freddie?"

"Yeah?" He put his hand on the smooth curve of her hip.

"I want to do this, but I'm nervous, so can we take it slow?"

"Of course," he said, placing light kisses on her neck. She pushed him away gently.

"And I'm a virgin. But I broke my hymen when I was younger. I just wanted to let you know, 'cause I might not bleed. I didn't want you to think I lied to you."

"You don't lie. Not about important things." He stopped. "Wait. How would you break your hymen?"

She blushed. "Gymnastics."

"Gymnastics?" he asked, smiling. She pushed him lightly on the shoulder.

"Yes, I took dance and gymnastics when I was younger. Because of the beauty pageants."

"Okay," he said. "Turn over."

"What?"

"Trust me." She turned over. He ran his fingers over her back, then over the curve of her ass, and down the length of her legs. He let his fingers move along her inner thigh as he moved back up, but he did not stop. He massaged her back and legs for several minutes, sometimes just barely letting the ends of his fingers touch her, other times applying more pressure, cupping her ass cheeks, squeezing her thighs. He straddled her thighs, letting his dick settle between them, feeling the closeness between them. He kissed her shoulder blades, then moved down her back, lightly sucking and licking as he did so. He took the flesh of her back near her shoulder between his teeth and applied light pressure, feeling her shiver. He ran his mouth over her buttocks and down her thighs. He separated her thighs and ran his tongue up the inside of them, feeling her part them further to allow him access. He lightly touched her pussy with his tongue, but did not push. She groaned, as he moved up the bed.

"You're such a tease," she said.

"That's why you love me," he said.

"That's not why I love you," she said. "But I do love you, dork." He smiled at her and sucked at her neck. He moved his hand down her body and let it rest on her pubic mound, extending his fingers to lightly stroke the edge of her pussy lips. He moved his mouth down and sucked on her breast, flicking her nipple with his tongue. He lightly pushed his finger inside her outer lips, feeling her wetness. He removed his finger, and she groaned in frustration again. He moved his mouth down her body, along with his own body, kissing her navel. He moved his head down between her thighs and lightly stroked the outside of her pussy with his tongue. She grabbed his head and tried to push him on to her, but he only let his tongue push inside a little bit. He kissed the moistness of her outer lips, pushed his tongue inside, and then kissed her lips again. He ran his tongue slowly up, letting it encircle her clitoris, feeling her hips respond.

"Freddie?"

He looked up. "Yeah?"

"I want you to fuck me." He felt his cock jump.

"Are you sure you're ready?" She nodded. He moved up beside her and kissed her.

"Still trying to turn me lesbian, Freddie?" _What?_ Then he realized the wetness of her pussy was on his lips.

"Sorry," he said. She kissed him, pushing tongue inside his mouth, and then capturing his tongue between her lips and sucking on it.

"Didn't say you needed to apologize. Just letting you know I like this too much," she said, and reached down and gave his cock a squeeze. Freddie reached to the side table, where he put the condoms his mother had given him way too many of when she had their talks. He pulled the drawer open and reached inside, and lost his balance, falling to the floor.

"I'm okay," he said weakly, as Sam laughed loudly. _So smooth_. He stood up with a condom in his hand, smiling foolishly.

"You're so sexy," she said, still laughing.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," he said.

"You are," she said, and her laughter died down. "Can I do it?" She held her hand out for the condom.

"You sure you can?" he asked.

"Had to go through the same demonstrations in health class you did, Freddie." She opened the package. She took the condom out and slowly rolled it over the tip of his cock and down his length. He moved to between her thighs.

"Be slow," she said.

"I will." He held his dick and ran it along her pussy, letting her wetness cover its tip. He pushed his tip toward her opening, and she reached down to help him inside. His dick pushed past the opening of her lips, and he stopped allowing her to get used to it. She nodded, and he pulled back a little and then pushed slowly a little, going a little further, feeling the entire head of his cock inside her. He leaned over, so that his chest was above hers, and let his legs rest between hers. She put her arms around his neck.

"I love you," he whispered. She looked up at him.

"Show me," she said. He pulled back again, and then pushed back inside, slowly, ever so slowly, but he did not stop until he felt himself all the way inside her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Little sensitive, but it feels good," she said. He nodded. For the first few minutes, he took it as slow as he could, all the time willing himself not to cum. Then he felt her legs wrap around him, seeming to encourage him to go deeper. He obliged, pushing a little further. She arched her hips to accept more of him. He felt her nails on his back, applying light pressure.

"Fuck me, Freddie," she said again. This time, he did not lightly stroke, but instead thrusted deeply. He heard her gasp. "No, do it again," she said, when he looked, asking with his eyes if he had hurt her. He pushed again, and this time he felt her hips rise to meet him, and she was matching each stroke. He slid into the exquisite wet softness of her, and he felt that he could not hold on much longer.

"Freddie, I'm gonna cum." He looked at her. Her head was thrown back, her eyes were closed, her fingers dug little crescents in his back. She cried out, and he saw the flush of her orgasm appear on her chest, and he felt his own release, as he quickened his pace.

When he was done, he collapsed against her, feeling her heartbeat against his chest. He pulled out and rolled the condom off, tossing it in the wastebasket. _Have to empty that before Mom comes home_, he thought, distractedly.

"I love you," he said, lightly stroking her cheek.

"I bet you say that to all the girls who have sex with you," she said, her eyes still closed.

"Actually, yes, I do."

She smiled. "I love you, too, Freddie." She opened her eyes. "I love you, too." She kissed him.

She scooted up, looking at the center of the bed. There was a wet spot, but no darkness. She hadn't bled. "We're gonna have to wash these sheets, Freddie, unless you'd like to tell your mom something."

"I will. Uh, wash the sheets, I mean," he said. His mother wouldn't be home until after three in the afternoon. Plenty of time. "How do you feel?"

"Okay. You're the first man who's been inside me, but that doesn't mean I haven't, you know-"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. You're a chronic masturbator."

"Freddie!" She smacked his chest. "Whatever. I don't recall _me_ ever jacking off in front of _you_."

"Well, technically I don't think girls can jack off. Nothing to jack. Jill off, maybe. And not yet." He grinned. He lay on his back and cradled her to his chest. He felt stupidly happy.

"Do you mind if I take a shower, Freddie?"

"Not a problem," he said, still trying to recover. She reached down to a bag he hadn't seen before and took out some bathroom supplies. He watched the way her hips swayed as she walked away. He was pretty sure she did that on purpose.

She had just wet her hair, when she heard the shower door open. She smiled. "You want me to do that for you?" he asked.

She handed him the shampoo. "Took you long enough," she said.

"Sorry, I think my brains shot out on the sheet, too." She laughed as he began to massage the shampoo into her hair.

"So-"

"You're not gonna get all girly on me, are you, Benson?"

"You're the one who says I already am," he said.

She reached behind her and squeezed his cock. "Sometimes," she said.

"Well, as I was saying," he continued. "I expect you to ask me to the prom, not just expect that I'm going anyway." She laughed. He reached past her and grabbed the loofah, and she leaned into his body as he did so. He began soaping her back. He soaped her ass, but apparently felt the loofah was not doing a great job, as he used his hand to make sure. Then he soaped her thighs.

"Turn around," he said. She did, grinning at him. He soaped her arms, her stomach, and her legs. Then he brought the loofah to her breasts and soaped them.

"Hold this," he said, giving her the loofah. He used his hands to massage the soap on her breasts, tweaking the nipples between his fingers.

"I think they're pretty clean," Sam said, smirking.

"Even when you think dirt is gone, wash again before moving on," he said. Sam bust out laughing.

"You're such a dweeb," she said. He shrugged his shoulders, finally deeming that her breasts were free of any microscopic particles of dirt.

He guided her under the water and rinsed the shampoo and soap off her. He applied conditioner, and then, as he waited to rinse it out, he washed himself. Sam soaped his back for him. He rinsed out her conditioner.

"Freddie," she said, once he was done. He looked at her. "I think you missed a spot."

"Did I?" She nodded. "Where?" he asked, grinning. She took his hand and put it on her pussy.

"It's sensitive, though. You shouldn't use the loofah." He nodded, with a serious expression on his face. He turned her around and reached over her thigh and lightly massaged her pussy. She could feel his cock hard against her. He slipped his finger in her pussy sucked at the moistness of her neck. She put her hand on his head, pushing him onto her neck, and his finger stroked the button of her clit. His cock was fully erect now and between her ass cheeks. He strengthened the pressure on her clit, massaging it between his fingers, and he felt her shudder against him. He held her stomach with his other hand to keep her steady.

"Freddie," she said, moaning, "go get a condom."

"Really?"

"Yes, hurry." He got out. "Freddie!" He stopped. "Don't fall." He proceeded more cautiously. He came back.

"Got the love glove," he said, holding it up.

"Don't ever call it that again."

"Sorry." He tore open the package and put the condom on. She put her hands against the tile wall. He stood behind her. He guided his cock to her pussy, and pushed inside her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Just fuck me, Freddie," she said. He nodded and pushed. She groaned as he did so. He reached out and grabbed her breasts, squeezing as he pushed inside her. He watched, fascinated, at the trembling of their flesh meeting, the way he ass cheeks seemed to jump.

He moved his hands to her hips and held them, using his hands to push her back, meeting his cock. He dug his nails into her hips, but she did not seem to mind. She leaned her head against the tile and reached down and started rubbing her clit. He saw that, and he came, letting out a yell.

"Keep going," she moaned, working her fingers faster as he thrust inside her. "Oh god, oh god, oh god...here it comes, Freddie." And then she seemed to lose her voice, as only wordless gasps came out of her mouth. She stopped with her hands, placing both hands against the wall again, and thrust back against his still hard cock. She stopped.

"I have to take it out, Sam," he said. He worried about going soft and having the condom slip off.

"Okay, go slow. Please."

He did. "I know you hate me asking, but are you okay?"

"Yeah, just a little sensitive. Haven't had this much action since that night with the football team."

"Ha ha, Sam." She smiled at him. He grabbed a towel and dried her off.

"You're gonna brush my hair, girlfriend," she said, handing him the brush.

He stood her in front of the mirror and started brushing. "Sometimes I think you just do that to try to get me to show you I'm a man."

"Maybe I do." They said nothing as he finished brushing her hair. When he finished, she turned around and kissed him. She went to reach into her bag.

"Sam, what are you doing?"

"Getting some clothes."

"Didn't you say I won?"

"Yeah," she said, giving him a look.

"Well, as the winner, I think I still make the rules. No clothes, sorry." He shrugged in mock sympathy.

"No clothes? Are you sure?" She stood up, letting the knot of her towel fall. "Because I believe I said the sight of me might make your heart stop."

"It already does."

"Okay, no clothes, but cut it out with the cheesy lines," she said, although he saw her smile. He hugged her, then pulled back when he heard her stomach growl.

"Would you like something to eat?" She nodded emphatically. He ran out of the bedroom and went to get both of them slices of cheesecake. When he came back, he saw her on the bed, laughing.

"What's so funny, Sam?"

She pointed. "You. Running. Swinging like a drunken helicopter." She snorted. He looked down and remembered he hadn't been wearing anything.

"Again with the laughter. You're making him feel bad." He handed her a plate. They both sat cross-legged on the bed, aware of each other's nakedness, but no longer embarrassed.

They talked of things that young lovers often do, of how the sight of each other brought them joy, of how they could not stand to be parted. In essence, all those things that come up in cheesy chick flicks that Sam detested.

"That was good," Freddie said. Sam held out her plate. "Would you like more, Sam?" She shook the plate, as if the question was beneath giving a proper response. He took the plate and went back into the kitchen, making sure to walk with as little bounce as possible. He cut her another slice. He came back and she reached for it, but he held it back. She snarled at him. He forked off a piece and fed it to her. She ate it and smiled.

"You know, if you could figure out a way to chew for me, this would be the dream."

"Gross, Sam."

She shrugged. He forked another bite and fed it to her. A drip of caramel fell off the fork and landed on her breast. She looked down at it. He shrugged and bent over and sucked it off her tit.

"You did that on purpose," she said.

"Can't prove anything," he said. She smirked at him, then scooped a fingerful of cheesecake and smeared it on his dick. "Sam!"

"Guess I'll have to clean that up," she said. And she bent over, licking the cheesecake. She started sucking on the head of his cock, and Freddie was pretty sure the cheesecake was completely gone by then.

"Sam, I don't know if I can again."

"Guess we'll have to find out," she said, taking her mouth off. She brought it back down over his cock, pushing down until she was almost all the way down. She came back up and started thrusting onto him, taking him about half way in each time. Maybe he could again, he thought. He lay back, and she positioned herself perpendicular to him. He grabbed her by the thigh.

"What are you doing, Freddie?" He said nothing, but pulled her up so that they were positioned, his face near her pussy, and hers near his cock. He rested his head on her thigh and reached out with his tongue, touching her clit.

"Oooh...careful, Freddie, sensitive." He lightened his stroke, but continued to massage her clit with his tongue. She went back to his cock, and the new angle allowed her to take more of him in. He didn't know if she came or not, but at one point she stopped sucking him, resting her own head against his thigh, and moaned softly.

"Stop," she said. She sat on the bed and made him stand up. She took him into her mouth again. She grabbed his ass cheeks and pulled him into her.

"Sam," he said. She looked at him, still sucking. "Now." He orgasmed, much less than any before and she locked eyes with him the entire time.

She took him out of her mouth, and he sat on the bed next to her. She leaned against his shoulder. "Do you want to brush your teeth?" he asked. She laughed. He blushed. "I just meant, you know, because it's bed time." She took his hand and walked into the bathroom with him.

They brushed and took turns rinsing into the sink, making Freddie smile. _We're like an old married couple_.

They headed toward the bed, but before they got in, Sam stopped him and pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you, Freddie."

"Well, you know that's what I do. Any time I see a damsel in need, I'm there to provide sex." She bit his chest, not so gently this time, and he yelped.

"I meant thank you for loving me," she said.

"It's nothing to be thankful for, Sam. I...I'm just happy you feel the same."

"I do. I love you." She kissed him. "I know I'm difficult sometimes. I'd like to be able tell you I won't call you names anymore. Or I won't pick on you. Or I won't get mad for some reason nobody really understands." She rested her head against his chest.

"But you can't," he said.

"I can't. I'll try, you know, to show that I do love you. I will show you. But I tried being somebody else before, and it didn't work out. You just have to promise me that even when I'm being a bitch, you'll still love me."

"Sam, I love you because of who you are, not who I hope to make you be. If you can love me even though I'm a nub, I can love you even if you're a bitch."

"When."

"Yes, when you're a bitch."

"You get a free pass, nub. Next time I'm Mike Tysoning your ball sac." He smirked. And covered up. "Let's go to bed."

They lay down, Freddie's front to her back. He put his hand on her hip, and she grabbed it and brought it to her breast. He smiled.

"You wore me out, so don't be trying anything in the middle of the night." She paused. "We'll see in the morning. Stud."

"What?"

"I called you a nub. Now go to sleep."

He kissed the back of her neck. "Good night. I love you, Sam."

"I love you, too, Freddie." A few seconds. "Pussy."

"Lesbian."

"Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep, Freddie."

He lay there a while longer, watching her drift off, feeling her breathing change against his body. He raised up and looked at her face. She was smiling in her sleep. Freddie kissed her again and settled against her, letting sleep claim him, too.

**A/N: This is another long author's note, just because I feel like responding to anybody who left me a review for the last chapter. If you reviewed the last chapter, please read. If you didn't, I invite you to read anyway, or not; it's up to you. I thank anybody who has favorited my story(ies) or me as an author or put me on alert. While I dig the reviews, I am also honored to see how many people have taken the time to read this story and my others. It's been fun writing for you, and it's been fun reading your reviews. I appreciate those who heap praise upon praise onto me, and I appreciate those who take the time to point out issues they had or minor nitpicks, and if it ever came across that I didn't, that's just because I'm right and you're wrong. No, seriously, thank you, all.**

**Thanks for reviews from: jhulkmn08, MissSeddie, coiwy1, StandardNostalgia, mamaluvsangst, isinkintohearts, kimmyAllen, clarksonfan, Kandygirl25443, maxiefae, Hackingofthedead, Kimbrely Ella Rose, sammiilizzie, HoneyHeartx, Moviepal, x-EMP-t, Geekquality, alaskan-anime-girlie21, peonelopie4, xXSeddieXx, Jarik Kiray, lil miss, twelvex, Princess Starlight, and Darsnider.**

**jhulkmn08: I'm not wearing knickers; I go commando. Okay...I'm actually wearing my Cookie Monster boxer shorts, but still...wasn't taking offense, just wondering what you were getting at. You said it for a reason; I asked for clarification. Don't know why that seems like me taking offense. Regardless, thank you for reading and the reviews.**

**MissSeddie: I updated as fast as I could. I'm not indefatigable. I'm no Johnny Hardiron.**

**coiwy1: I can see what you are saying about Mrs. Benson. I kind of wanted to show that part of her we don't really see, but we kind of know-that she loves Freddie more than anything, and I'd like to think (and I'm sure Freddie would, too) that she would start to realize that she had to release a little, and I decided to go in that direction. I like writing her and Gibby, because I think the show gives us a lot of wiggle room with their characters.**

**StandardNostalgia: Thank you for the reviews. I don't like to think of myself as a hero. I do like it when other people think of me as a hero. And when the ladies swoon. The swooning is great!**

**mamaluvsangst: You almost made me cry, thinking you were going to slam the chapter. Thank you for the compliment. It's very difficult for me to write Sam as vulnerable and still have her be Sam (writing Sam as sarcastic and quippy is easy), and I appreciate it that you think I got it right.**

**isinkintohearts; Everybody keeps using the word "cheesy" with me as a compliment. Eh. I'll take it. Thanks for the reviews. Sorry about screwing up your name before.**

**kimmyAllen: Any reviews are cherished, like pearls upon the...oh, I just like them. While I don't think this would happen on the show (I have no idea how they would use blocking to film cunnilingus), I thank you for what you meant and not the dirty thing I turned it into.**

**clarksonfan: Thanks for all the reviews. I almost went with Sam punching Freddie in the throat and telling him she would never love him because she was in love with Mr. Howard, but I'm glad I changed my mind and went with my second option.**

**kandygirl25443: I'm glad you liked it. Stay tuned for my next story with Sam and Mr. Howard (no, seriously, don't wait for that. It's not happening). **

**maxiefae: Thanks for all the reviews. Thanks for the favorites. Of all the maxies I know, you're my favorite.**

**Hackingofthedead: Sorry, this is the last chapter. Unless...no, this is it. Thanks for the review.**

**Kimrely Ella Rose: I'm not saying Sam willingly told Carly, as much as Carly forced it out of her through her tortuous way (plus, Freddie had just blown Sam's mind, making her vulnerable).**

**sammiilizziee: This is it. Thanks for all the reviews.**

**HoneyHeartx: That's because I added an extra cup of sugar. Don't tell Mrs. Benson, or she will make us eat her asparagus casserole.**

**Moviepal: What? There are others you like better? Let me know their names. THey're going down! Thanks for the reviews.**

**x-EMP-t: Now I'm feeling pressure to write, and I don't have any ideas. Ah!**

**Geekquality: Great, so for me to write excellent chapters, I have to do it feeling like they're the worst things ever. Oh, the life of the tortured artist.**

**alaskan-anime-girlie21: Thanks. I try.**

**peonelopie4: Glad you've been along for the ride. It's been interesting.**

**xXSeddieXx: And it loves you. But it's not quite ready for a monogamous relationship. But if you just want to fool around, it's willing.**

**Jarik Kiray: She wasn't in love from the beginning-she didn't realize she was in love until after the dance. Freddie wasn't actually thinking about sex when he said that, just in general, as he knows how others in her life have hurt her.**

**lil miss: Well, pick it up. Can't finish this with your jaw unhinged. Thanks for all the reviews.**

**twelvex: While I've been more than willing to use cliche when it serves my purpose, I wouldn't have done that in this chapter. Also, Sam didn't get pregnant from having sex with Freddie. **

**Princess Starlight: If you had just waited a little longer to post your review, I wouldn't have added one of the phrases to the story. All your fault.**

**Darsnider: More cheese? I'm opening a factory or something. Glad you appreciated.**


	17. Epilogue

Epilogue

**Disclaimer: So you drive to the outskirts of your town, the place where you grew up. You're tempted to turn back. But you don't. Bad things have happened to people who turn back for just one more look. You've seen it in the Bible. So you drive, memories and friends, darkness and light, sadness and joy, all left behind-at least until you fall asleep. Sometimes in your dreams, you see the sign. **_**Welcome to **_**iCarly**_**. No vacancies per owner. But we appreciate your visit.**_

_**Note: I wrote this epilogue since some people have requested one and I also apparently gave some the impression that my last chapter would not be the last chapter. The following chapter contains somewhat graphic sex, general cheesiness, and a tinge of cuteness that some people might not be able to take if they are not in the couple displaying the cuteness. The events of this chapter in no way invalidate anything that previously happened in earlier chapters, and I am not going to end the chapter destroying their relationship or suddenly making Sam pregnant or Freddie deciding he still loves Carly. If you were happy and comfortable with the way the last chapter ended, you can choose to not read this and probably still feel good about the story. Just think of this as the director's cut alternative ending to the story.**_

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive, Sam?"

Sam had her license, but Freddie still wasn't firmly convinced that she hadn't intimidated the evaluator into giving it to her. She was driving about ten miles over the speed limit, and she had an annoying and life-threatening habit of practically touching the bumper of the car in front of her before she switched lanes to pass.

"You don't know how to get there. And if you wanted to drive, we should have taken your car," she said. She looked at him and raised her eyebrow, and he felt his sphincter tighten until she looked back to the road.

"This is my car, Sam!"

"Well, you're my boyfriend. What's yours is mine."

"And what's yours?"

"Is also mine. Pure sexism, I know. You guys should get together and do something about that." She grinned. She was in a strange mood. For one, Sam Puckett never showed up at her boyfriend's apartment at eight in the morning, informing him that they were going to where BBQ Monthly called the best BBQ joint in the western United States.

They had been dating a little over four months and, even though he knew Sam probably better than anybody else did, she still found ways to surprise him. Some of the ways were annoying and some were fantastic, but he had to admit none of them were boring.

The morning after Sam had told him she loved him too, they had walked into Carly's apartment, holding hands. They agreed, after allowing themselves to be distracted by several amorous interludes, they would have to keep Carly in the loop, or else she was going to harass them until they did anyway.

When they came in, Carly looked up from the couch and took less than a second to note their joined hands. She jumped off the couch and hugged them both together. And then she took Sam alone to her bedroom.

Spencer looked at him from the couch. "So, you and Sam. Together."

"Yeah," Freddie said.

"Be good to her, Freddie."

"I will."

"I know," Spencer said. He gestured for Freddie to sit down.

"But Sam-"

"They won't be done for a while, Freddie."

"Why not?" Freddie asked.

"You'll see. And by the way, I don't want to know about any of it." Freddie wondered what he was talking about. When Sam and Carly finally came downstairs after nearly an hour, Spencer said something about seeing Socko, and he headed out. Nobody said anything, and every time he looked at Carly, she would blush and look away.

"What did you say to Carly?" he asked Sam when they left.

"I just told her we were together," she said.

"And that took an hour?"

"Well, I had to share details."

"Wait. You shared details. Like _details?_" Sam nodded. "Oh, man, no wonder she couldn't look at me. Why did you do that?"

"She's my best friend," Sam said.

"She's my best friend, too. Or she was-now she won't even look at me."

"She'll get over it," Sam said, and kissed him.

"Are you going to continue to tell her everything?" he asked.

"Yep." And, as far as Freddie knew, Sam did. It took about a month before Carly could look at him without turning red. It made for some interesting episodes of _iCarly_, and there were many comments about it from the fans. One time Freddie was having issues with the computer, and he he tapped it, saying, "this bites", and Carly almost asphyxiated on her lemonade.

They broke the news on _iCarly_ that they were dating. Neither Freddie or Sam wanted to, but Carly pointed out that, unless they wanted their relationship to consist of "secret rendezvouses", people were going to find out.

"Do you have something to tell the people, Sam?" Carly said during the broadcast of their first episode after Sam and Freddie officially got together.

"Yeah, so me and the nub are dating. Whoo hoo. Any of you people come up to me and say the word 'Seddie', I'm punching you in the ear." Sam shut her mouth.

Carly waited a moment. "Well, that's just wonderful. Congratulations to the new couple."

They, of course, had to tell Freddie's mother, or at least confirm her suspicions.

"That didn't seem to bother her that much," Sam said, and Freddie saw that she couldn't decide between happiness and disappointment. She knew Mrs. Benson could make their lives difficult, but she also found some pleasure in pushing her buttons.

"I guess you can never tell," Freddie said. He had planted the seeds with his mother before the broadcast, making sure to mention the brief time he and Carly had been together, watching his mother's mouth twist each time Carly's name was brought up. He also made sure to leave literature from Washington State University around, including his application form. Sure that he wasn't dating Carly Shay and that he might really go to college nearby, she reacted to Sam and Freddie dating with a minimum of protest.

After it became public knowledge that he and Sam were dating, Freddie found himself very popular with the Ridgeway female population. It had been flattering for a day. After that, it was annoying. Then a week later, no girls approached him. After getting date requests and phone numbers (which he threw away-no need for Sam to accidentally find a number) at least four times a day, all of a sudden he was a pariah.

"Are you looking for somebody else to date?" Carly asked, when he mentioned it.

"No. I love Sam," he said, and Carly smiled at the matter-of-fact way he said it. "And it was annoying. I wasn't sure why they all started coming after me. I mean, even more than before, when girls would ask me out because I was part of a web show."

"It was like a danger thing." Freddie looked at her questioningly. "You know, you're with Sam Puckett. Taking away Sam Puckett's boyfriend would be like walking through a lion's den and surviving. Like a rush kind of thing."

"That's sick," Freddie said.

Carly shrugged. "Problem was they didn't realize what would happen when Sam found out."

"Sam found out? I threw all the phone numbers away. I told all of them I was dating Sam, and I didn't want to date anyone else."

"Relax, Freddie. You're still alive, so obviously Sam doesn't blame you."

"Did you tell her?"

"Not me. Michelle."

"Michelle? the girl who asked me on a date about six months ago."

"Yeah...well, apparently Sam, uh, sort of threatened her soon after you started dating. But Michelle made it clear she liked you, as in liked you even if you weren't dating, and I guess the two of them sort of connected. Sam got her and Rodney together."

"Rip-Off Rodney?"

"Yeah, they're good together. I mean, he still sells stuff out of his locker, but other than that. Anyway, when the girls started going after you, she told Sam. I guess Sam took one or two and made an example of them." Freddie winced. He had seen what Sam could do to grown men.

"Should we talk about these girls asking me out?" Freddie asked Sam later that night.

"Don't need to," Sam said.

"Because I-"

She sighed. "Do you want to be with other girls, Freddie?"

"Not even a little."

"Then there's nothing to talk about. Now shut up and let me watch this show. The sooner I do, the sooner I hump your brains out."

"Guys!" Spencer said. "I'm going to Socko's."

He left. The door opened. "Don't do anything on my couch!"

Freddie reflected on his life recently. When you were sure you were going to die, he figured that was what you were supposed to do. Sam's driving made him think it was a definite possibility. Except for the possibility of upcoming vehicular catastrophe, his life had been great. He had been worried about Sam and him as a couple, in a relationship in which they couldn't hide behind games, but for the most part it had been better than he had expected. To many people, it might have not even seemed they were dating-maybe more that they were forced to hang out together for some reason. They still bantered. And Sam did not like public displays of affection. He had learned to live with the public girlfriend persona of Sam Puckett, because the one he got in private was amazing. His girlfriend Sam, without other people around, said "I love you" maybe more than he did. She would curl up in his lap on the fire escape, and they would talk for hours. That, and the fact that the Shays' apartment didn't count as the public (and therefore she would be affectionate to him there), made it all worth it. There were a few things that bothered him, though.

The first thing was the shirt. It shouldn't have bothered him. He thought the shirt was stupid, but that wasn't enough reason to get upset. No, he was upset because she wouldn't explain. She just said she lost a bet, but wouldn't say with whom and what about. And she lied. Because Sam Puckett losing a bet was like Halley's Comet-it happens, but infrequently.

She wore a jacket before they started a broadcast. As Freddie was counting down, she took it off, not allowing him anytime to say anything before the show started. It was a red Penny T with "Seddie" on it. Sam hated Seddie. Carly looked at the shirt, but didn't say anything. And Sam didn't mention anything about it during the show.

"What's with the shirt?" Freddie asked after filming stopped.

"Lost a bet," she said. He pushed, but she wouldn't tell him anything further. To her, it probably seemed he finally stopped caring about it, but he would find himself thinking about it at random times. Fuck the shirt; why couldn't she just tell him?

The second thing that bothered him was his birthday. It was less unexpected, but it still bothered him. Sam was not one for extravagant gestures, and he thought that he would be okay if she didn't make a big deal out of it. He was wrong, though.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Gift certificate. You're taking me out to eat." And he did. He didn't complain. He had seen her lift money out of his wallet a few days before. She didn't try to hide it; that was just one of the perks of him being her boyfriend. She just did her stealing outright. So he really just paid for his own gift certificate. It wasn't like she hadn't put a special effort forth for him later that night, but he was still upset. _It was my eighteenth birthday_. And then he got mad at himself for being upset.

And now they were driving to Boise, Idaho, and Freddie was scared for his life and tired, because he had stayed up late correcting Sam's English paper. She had been putting forth more effort in school, in part to get him to shut up about it, but that entailed him being involved with her school work as well as his own. He loved his girlfriend, but he knew he was just one more thing from saying something, something that with any other girl probably wouldn't matter, but with this one-well, he had been on the receiving of her punches, both physical and verbal.

His thoughts were replaced with a new one when he saw a sign for Ritzville. He had driven through there before. "Sam, you messed up. You should have taken I-82. We're still on 90."

"Have to pick something up," she said.

"Have to pick something...Sam, this is way out of our way. This will be an all day thing, and we might not even get there in time to eat your barbecue."

"Shush. Driving."

He opened his mouth to say something. He closed it. _I love her. I love her. I love her. I'm just irritated, and I shouldn't take it out on her. It's been a week since my birthday, and I should just get over it. Maybe I'll contact Gunsmoke this week and agree to those sparring sessions he's been suggesting. _And stewing in his own frustration and anger, he fell asleep despite his fear of dying.

"Wake up, nub." Freddie opened his eyes. He blinked his eyes a few times. He looked around. They were in a parking lot. A crowded parking lot.

"Where are we?" he asked.

Sam pointed. He looked out the window. _Pear Technology Convention 2012_. He gaped at Sam. The convention was supposed to have been held in Seattle, but there was a fire at the center where it was going to be, and it had been moved to Spokane. Freddie had been upset, because his mother had finally agreed to let him go this year (every year she had refused, because she was sure he would be kidnapped-at a technology convention). He had only expressed some disappointment to Sam when he first found out, because he knew she would tease him about being a nerd and tell him how boring it was, even if it was just the two of them.

"What are we doing here, Sam?"

"Being nerds." She held up two tickets. Two VIP tickets, which meant they also got to do a meet-and-greet with the actor who played Nug-Nug.

"Uh...thanks," he said, unable to think of what else to say.

She leaned over and kissed him. "Happy birthday, Freddie."

He looked around. "Did you do it this way to make me feel like an asshole?"

"Aww...was Freddie thinking his girlfriend was only going to give him a gift card for his birthday?" She smirked.

"Sorry."

"You'll make it up to me later. Come on."

"Sam, how'd you buy these tickets."

"Tell you later."

"We're not gonna have cops come after us, are we?"

"No, now let's go, or we'll miss the nerd orgy."

He let her drag him along. "I knew nerds made you wet."

"Some do."

Freddie didn't know if Sam felt Spokane didn't feel like public or what, but she held his hand the entire time, unless she pulled his arm around her waist. She paid attention to everything around her, even if it seemed like she did it just so she could have a smart-ass remark to make. Freddie didn't mind. Sam was the funniest person he knew, and he appreciated her, even with most of her quips were at his expense.

Sam took a picture of him bumping fists with Nug-Nug. Freddie immediately sent the picture to Spencer, who replied within twenty seconds calling Freddie a jerk.

They left the convention, and Sam drove to a restaurant. Instead of barbecue (which Freddie had become pretty sick of), it was Italian. Sam listened as Freddie enthused about some of the new technology they could use for the webshow. He tried to talk to her about how this trip came about, but she returned the conversation to the technology again and again. She wasn't going to talk about it, not yet, he understood, so he allowed the distraction.

When the check came, Sam took it and put cash on the tray.

"Seriously, Sam, did you somehow get into my college fund? Because I really can't afford..."

"Don't worry about it, Fredward. Don't you trust Mama?"

"Sometimes." She stuck her tongue out at him. "Do you want me to drive, Sam?"

"Nah. I got it." Freddie sighed. He probably had another four or so hours of death-defying ahead of him. He got in the car and looked at the girl behind the steering wheel, her blonde hair seeming to sparkle from a nearby street lamp. He shrugged. There had to be worse ways to die.

But he didn't have four hours, because Sam was pulling into a parking lot only ten minutes later.

"What are we doing here, Sam?" He looked at the sign: Excalibur Hotel. The place looked expensive.

"Too tired to drive so long."

"I can drive, Sam." She looked at him. "Or we can stay here for the night."

"Go check in, Freddie. Just give them your name." He started to say something else, but she gave him another look. He wasn't sure what was going on, but she was not tired, he knew that.

"I'm Freddie Benson," he said to the desk clerk. The man nodded and typed on the keyboard.

"It will be room 112," he said, handing Freddie the key.

"How much?" Freddie asked, preparing for the worst.

The man looked at the computer monitor in front of him. "The room has already been paid for, Mr. Benson." Freddie nodded and walked out, bemused. He was surprised and yet not surprised. Being Sam's boyfriend did that to you.

"Room 112," he said, opening Sam's door.

"Good. Grab the bags out of the trunk." Freddie went to the trunk and saw that there were indeed two bags, one of them his. He opened it and was not surprised to see his own clothes and toiletries. _Tired, my ass_.

"Sam, I need to call my mom."

"Taken care of," she said. She took the key from him and opened the door to their room. Freddie stepped inside and saw the enormous size of it. Room? It was probably as large as his apartment. There was a king size bed and a jacuzzi.

"Sam, what's going on?"

"Okay, Freddie, here it goes...I'm a bank robber."

"Come on, Sam."

"Can't you let me be a bank robber for a little bit?" He just looked at her. "Party pooper. Fine, well, your mom already knows you're here."

"My mom knows I'm here? And she hasn't sent the state police after you?"

"Freddie, you're eighteen. And, anyway, I told her if she didn't put up a fight about this, since I was going to win anyway, that I would get you to agree to go to college in Seattle."

"I, uh, haven't made any decisions yet, Sam."

"You know I can tell when you're lying, don't you, Fredweird?"

"I am not sure of what you speak."

She came to him and looked at him seriously. "I would never had told her I would do that if I hadn't known you had already made your decision."

"You know that?"

She nodded. "If you weren't such a good boyfriend, I'd thump you in the forehead. You need to stop thinking that just because I don't act all girly when we're around other people that I don't listen to you or see what's going on in your head. I know you were worried if you told me, that I would fight you, and insist that you have to go to the college that is best for you, even if it's on the other side of the country."

"And you're not going to fight me?"

"No. I saw your pro-con list."

"Sam, is there any reason for me to even password protect my computers?"

"Well, it keeps your mom out. I saw the list, and Washington wasn't your number one college, but it was in the top three. And, of course, your number twelve reason for picking it kind of tipped the scale." He looked at her; he couldn't remember what number twelve was on the final list. He had written it over Christmas break, and modified lists at least a dozen times. "'I love Sam'. Well, you've been a good boy. I couldn't take you away from the best thing you've had." Her words were light-hearted; the glistening that didn't quite leave her eye was not.

"So you're okay with it?" Freddie asked.

"Well, I was hoping to start dating professors. Maybe explore that lesbian side you keep pushing."

"Ha ha, very fu-wait a minute." She grinned at him. "Professors?"

"Sit down, Freddie." He did. "And don't interrupt me. I don't want to have to repeat myself."

She smiled and then her face turned serious. "I know you were disappointed last week when I gave you your birthday gift." He opened his mouth and she stared him quiet. "I know, Freddie. But I had something planned, and I couldn't let you know. And I know you weren't expecting much." She dismissed whatever he was going to say. "Chill, Freddie, we both know you're a better boyfriend than I am a girlfriend. You cook for me at least once a week. You take me out to do the things I want. You always pay. You give me gifts, and it's never that crap that other girls like. And I know that it might look unfair to other people looking in."

"I don't think it's unfair, Sam."

"That's sweet." She flicked his nose. "No interrupting. But, just because I don't act the way other girlfriends might doesn't mean I don't love you more than any of them could." She stared at him. He nodded, not saying anything, earning him a smirk. "But I knew you're really just a big girl, so I wanted to show you."

"I went on our message boards and sent e-mails to the people in the 'Seddie' group," she said, shuddering. "I told them if they donated enough money, I would wear that shirt on the show. Which is how I was able to afford all this."

He raised his eyebrows, signaling he wanted permission to speak. She nodded. "Thank you. But what about-"

"Professors?" He nodded. She went to her bag and pulled out an envelope, handing it to him. He read it.

"Seattle Community College? You're going?"

"Yes, it seems my grades have improved enough-"

"Sam, that's great," he said, standing up and ignoring her no-talking rule, kissing her hard on the lips. "I'm so proud of you."

"Whatever," she said, but he could tell she was pleased. "Anyway, it's less than three hours from your college. And Carls and I were talking getting an apartment together, rather than her get a roommate at WSU."

She put her arms around his neck. "So, happy birthday, Freddie Benson. Happy six-month anniversary from the time you first tagged me. Congratulations on being lucky enough to catch a hot ticket like me."

"I am lucky."

"Yes, you are. Now are we gonna get naked or what?"

"Uh, Sam...I don't have protection."

She nodded. "Oh, yeah, about that." She showed him her arm. "I got this put in, supposed to be better at protecting against pregnancy, even more than condoms or birth control pills."

"But sexual diseases?" he asked.

"You calling me a slut, Benson?"

"No, Sam-" He saw her grin. "You're frustrating."

"You love it." She went back to her bag and handed him two pieces of paper.

"This is a medical...Sam, you got tested?" He looked at the other paper. "Sam, this is for me!"

"Yep...I found out from your mother that you were going in for an exam, and I knew that since you were with a harlot like me, she would have everything checked. So I did, too. So, unless you've cheated on me in the last week, we can play outside the bubble."

"I would never cheat on you," he said. "You're too scary." She laughed and kissed him.

"Get the jacuzzi going, Freddie." He started it. He turned back to Sam, who had moved closer to him. "I seem to be wearing way too many clothes, Freddie." Freddie laughed. Sam had taken to saying that she was too lazy to take her own clothes off, but he knew she liked it when he did it for her. He did, too.

Freddie brought his lips to hers, capturing her upper lip and sucking at it softly. He cupped her butt cheeks and pulled her closer to him. He moved his hands to her waist and pushed her shirt up. Too slowly, judging by Sam's growling. He grinned. He let go of her lip and lightly nipped the skin where her shoulder blade and neck came together. She moaned. Sam generally didn't like being bitten, but Freddie, through careful exploration, had found there were certain parts of her body that were the exception. He pulled her shirt over her head.

Freddie looked down. "Sam?" She blushed. The bra she was wearing was a lacy blue one that left very little to the imagination. He could see her nipples poking through the fabric. "That's very girly." Sam was pretty much a plain bra sort of girl.

"Yeah, well, I figured you could borrow it afterward," she said, still blushing furiously. "Do...do you like it?"

"Unbelievably sexy," he said, cupping her breasts. He got down on one knee and took her shoes and socks off. He moved hands up her thighs as he stood back up and kissed her again. He unbuttoned her jeans and unzipped them, sucking at her neck as she cupped the back of his head. He pushed her jeans down. She shook them down the rest of the way and lifted her feet out one at a time. He put his hands on her ass. The skin of her ass. He opened his eyes and stepped back.

"Samantha Puckett, are you wearing a thong?" The blush she displayed before was nothing compared to this one.

"Freddie," she said, almost pleadingly. the thong matched the bra.

"Sam, you are beautiful. And incredibly sexy." He pulled her close and put his hands back on her ass. "And you are just as sexy when you're wearing your boxer shorts." She smiled. "Although, I have to say, I could get used to this."

"Don't get too used to it, nub," she said. He spun her around. "Are you checking out my ass, Freddie?"

"Indeed I am," he said.

She backed up into him, grinding against his crotch. "Maybe you should use a few more of your senses, Freddie?" She twisted against him, smiling at his hardness against her. He brought one of his hands up and cupped a breast again. He used the other to release her bra snap easily. He had practiced a lot. He let her bra fall to the floor and moved his hands back to her breasts. "I swear if you could have my breasts without me, you'd break up with me, Freddork."

"Well, they are beautiful breasts," he said, lightly squeezing her nipples to make them harden. He kissed her neck from shoulder blade to just behind her ear. "But I need the entire package."

"Aw, Freddie called me a package. How sweet." He laughed lightly against her throat, making her shudder. He grabbed her thong and pushed it down her thighs, letting it fall. He looked at the water in the jacuzzi, which had gotten fairly high. He turned it off. He turned around in time to get hit by Sam's body, and they both fell into the jacuzzi.

"Sam!" He got a panicked look on his face. "My phone. My wallet."

"Relax, nub. I already picked them." She pointed to where they were on the floor.

"That's it, Sam." He started tickling her, laughing as she thrashed in the water. Somehow the tickling turned into kissing again, with Sam frantically pulling his wet shirt off him. Freddie stood up and pulled his jeans off. Finally all of his clothes were off, slung over the side of the jacuzzi. Sam hit the button to start the water jet.

Sam moved on to Freddie's thighs and wrapped her legs around him. She grabbed his cock. He spun her around so that her back was close to the jacuzzi's side.

"Oh," she said. He looked questioningly at her, then realized that the jet's water stream was hitting her pussy. He grinned, and positioned her closer. "Freddie...oh, god." He inserted a finger inside her, and she slid down onto him. "Damn it, Freddie. Fuck!" He felt her tighten around his finger. Then she collapsed. "Wasn't supposed to be so quick."

"Sorry, babe. Can't help the skills." She laughed, shaking. "In fact..." He grabbed her and put her on the raised seat. She propped her hands on the side of the jacuzzi. He pushed his tongue against her clit. The motion of the water lapped against her pussy lips. She thrust against Freddie's mouth, and he obliged her eagerness by sucking on her clit and pushing a finger insider her. Her arms stiffened, and she wrapped her legs around his neck, pulling him toward her. He thrust his finger harder as he felt her orgasm against him.

After she recovered, she said, "I want you inside me, Freddie."

They scrambled out of the jacuzzi, frantically and haphazardly drying each other. Freddie picked Sam up around her thighs, sucking on her breasts as he moved toward the bed. He set her on the bed, but she grabbed him and threw him down next to her. She straddled his thighs.

"Sam?"

"Shhh. Mama's in control." She reached between her legs and grabbed his dick, holding it firmly, as she lowered herself down on him. Freddie watched with fascination as his cock slowly disappeared inside her. He understood the need for condoms, but the feeling of her warm wetness around him was incredible.

Sam had her eyes closed as she pushed down on him. Her thighs were outside his thighs, while her feet rested above his knees. She slowly sunk down onto his cock and then pulled back up again. Freddie watched as she began to move faster. He cupped her breasts.

"You feel so good inside me," she said. He raised up and sucked on a nipple, letting his tongue flick against it. She increased her thrust. Freddie felt her pussy walls tighten around him.

"Oh, god!" She grabbed his shoulders and squeezed tightly, leaving little impressions with her fingernails. She collapsed against his chest. He caressed her back. She looked up and smiled at him. She pulled up, so that his dick came out. Still keeping her eyes locked on his, she moved down his body, until her mouth was above his cock. She slowly licked the tip of his cock.

"You like it when I taste myself, don't you, Freddie?"

He nodded.

"Tell me."

"I love it when you taste yourself. I want you to suck your juice off my cock." She smiled. She grabbed his cock at the base and lowered her mouth over the head of his cock. Slowly, she pushed her mouth down, sucking as she did so. She cupped his balls and lightly fondled them, as she went down. She finally had his entire cock inside her mouth and pulled up slowly, exerting exquisite pressure on him as she did so.

Sam took him out of her mouth and grinned, and then went back down on him again. He knew if she continued this, he would cum very quickly. And he wanted to cum inside her pussy. When she took him out of her mouth again, he moved out of her grasp, picking her up and putting her on her back.

"Freddie!"

He said nothing. He pulled her to the edge of the bed, while he stood on the floor. He grabbed her by the ankles and pushed her legs up, so that they were almost perpendicular to the rest of her body. Holding both of her ankles in one hand, he positioned his cock and pushed all the way inside her pussy.

"Fuck!" Freddie nodded and grinned. He moved his hands back to each ankle and pushed hard inside her. Sam was moaning more and harder than Freddie had ever seen, so the angle must have allowed him to hit her G-spot.

"Fuck me, Freddie! Fuck me harder." He brought his knees up on the edge of the bed, pushing her legs so that they were on his shoulders, arching her so that he was almost fucking her from above. He grasped the blanket as he thrust deep insider her, feeling her pussy contracting around him. "Cum inside me, Freddie." And, as if her request triggered him, he growled and shot his seed inside her, thrusting harder as he did so. She positioned her legs from his shoulders to around his waist, helping push him as his thrust lessened. Finally, he collapsed against her, his head above her breasts.

"I love you, Freddie."

"I love you, too, Sam." They lay like that for a while. Then, without conversation, they got up together and went to the shower. Taking a shower together had been an unspoken agreement, and it was as much a part of their relationship as the sex was (and sometimes the two intertwined). Sam insisted she be washed first, even after Freddie had pointed out you always saved the best for last. Sam made sure when it was his turn that his dick was extra clean, he was fully hard again.

He dried her off and brushed her hair. She stood in front of him, making sure to let his cock brush against her ass. When it was her turn to dry him (even though he had essentially dried while brushing her hair), she was careful to not go anywhere near his cock with the towel, but somehow she found ways to brush it with her hip, her elbow, the back of her hand.

She got down on her knees. The carpet was plush, so it didn't bother her. She carefully used the towel to dry his testicles. Instead of using it on his dick, she grasped it by the hand.

"You interrupted me, Freddie. Not that I minded the end result, but you have to know not to do that. You have to be punished." She took the head of his cock in her mouth, sucking slowly, rolling her tongue around its circumference. She ran her tongue along the length of his cock, just barely touching it. He put a hand on the back of her head and tried to maneuver her, but she simply pushed him away, and he heard her chuckle. She licked all around his shaft, torturing him. She placed her mouth around his head, but just lightly touched it with her lips. She continued this for several minutes, until he felt he could not take the slow torture anymore.

"Sam."

"What, Freddie?" she asked, smiling.

"Suck me," he said. Her smile became larger.

"I don't think so. You shouldn't have interrupted me before."

"Sam, do it, or-"

"Or what, nub?" She licked the tip of his cock. "You can't do anything."

In one motion, he picket her up and put her over the side of the recliner. With no hesitation, he pushed his cock all the way inside her pussy. She moaned. He did not see the smile on her face, but he knew how much she liked it the few times he did get rough with her. Most of the time she preferred the gentle side of Freddie, but occasionally...

He grabbed her hair and pulled, craning her throat back. She had another orgasm. Suddenly, Freddie did something he had not done before: he spanked her ass. She turned around and glared at him, but was unable to hold it against the brilliant grin he showed her.

"Better not do that again, nub," she grunted. He said nothing, but she felt a sharp sting on her other ass cheek. She tried to protest, but the pleasured moans gave her away. He roughly pulled her around and pushed her on her knees and pushed his cock against her lips. This time, she took him in willingly, going all the way down on him, pulling away, one hand stroking him when she moved her mouth up, the other lightly teasing sensitive area under his balls. And Freddie did another thing he hadn't done before; he grabbed the hair at the back of her head and held, as he thrust inside her mouth. She kept enough of her hand on him that he didn't push too far back. He looked down to see her looking back at him, those beautiful eyes. And he shut his eyes and groaned, feeling his cum shoot out. It should have been less impactful than his first orgasm, but it wasn't. When Sam got him in this state it upped his arousal, and he was sure he had somehow drowned her in his cum. He looked down to see she was not; in fact she was sucking at him even harder. She grasped his ass cheeks with her hands, pulling him toward her.

She got up. "That's better," she said. She went to brush her teeth. He followed her and did the same. "By the way, Freddie," she said, grabbing one of his ass cheeks and squeezing hard, almost painfully, "you're going to pay for spanking me."

He winked at her. "I hope so."

They got into bed. Freddie always insisted they sleep nude; Sam said he was some type of secret nudist, probably one of those perverts who went to a nude beach with a hidden camera. They assumed their accustomed position, his front to her back, his hand on her breast.

"Happy late birthday, Freddie," she said, snuggling close to him.

"Thank you, Sam. I love you."

"I love you, too. Now, if you're feeling frisky during the night, you just need to remember Mama likes her sleep. So you better make it worth my while." She felt his cock twitch and then harden against her ass. "Already, Freddie?"

"Well, you're not asleep yet," he said, grinning.

"True, I'm not." And she turned around.

**A/N: I hope everybody was pleased by this. I did have another idea for another story, but I got some issues going on and don't know when or if I will be able to work on it.**


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